


Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree

by kentuckybarnes (hannah_jpg)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A Disguise, Bucky Bear - Freeform, Charms Every Woman in Town, Coney Island, F/M, Fireworks, Flirty Bucky, Is this a happy AU ending or incredibly depressing?, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Set in 1940s, Soda Shops, Swing Dancing, World War II, who knows???? i sure don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-05-24 07:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_jpg/pseuds/kentuckybarnes
Summary: In 1941 Brooklyn, a young woman spends her nights sneaking out of her parents’ house to play jazz piano at clubs. Although she disguises herself to keep out of trouble, it doesn’t fool everyone.





	1. Chapter 1

_Brooklyn, May 1941._

The squeak of the window was piercingly loud in the still, black night. Susanna tensed, fingers clenched on the window frame, listening for any response from her parents’ bedroom down the hall. Nothing. The whir of their electric fan must have disguised the squeak. She began to breathe again. Scratching the stray, itching hairs at her scalp which had come loose from her cap, she swung her trousered legs out and carefully onto the fire escape.

She had enough practice that even the thick soles of her newspaper-filled Oxfords didn’t make any noise against the iron. Wriggling backwards out the window, Susanna held her breath until she was out of the house. Crickets chirped around. Only the honking of cars a few blocks away broke the otherwise silent night.

There was no point in closing her window. It would only squeak again, and again when she returned later. She reached back inside, and yanked the white-lace curtains closed as an afterthought.

Tugging the cap further over her eyes and her brown curls, pinned into braids, Susanna carefully climbed down the rungs, silent as a breath and just as swift. She squared her shoulders, shoving her fists into the large pockets of her trousers as she strutted away as if she hadn’t just done something naughty.

The night air was warm for spring and acrid with the scent of too many cars running on gasoline. But it was the smell of home. Archie waited at the end of the block, his jacket slung over his shoulder. Hs trumpet case squeaked in his hand as he nervously swung it around. She grinned to see him, but he only frowned in return.

“Let’s go, quick,” he said.

“Lead on, cuz.”

Away from the neighborhoods, Brooklyn teemed with life at night. Susanna keeping her face hidden, they dodged cars and tramped down smoky alleyways until they reached a heavy, rust-peeled door. Arch knocked once, and a moment later they were let in. 

“You’re nearly late,” Marcie said, a cigarette drooping between her fingers. “The set’s about to begin.”

“Sorry, Marc.” Archie shouldered through the door. Susanna settled for an apologetic nod, keeping her face in the shadow of her cap. Already they could hear the band warming up from the club, the corridor stretching until they met another door, rimmed with bright, welcoming light. 

The air was filled with smoke and perfume. Susanna sat down at the piano, testing the keys quickly. Her palms were a little sweaty, and she dragged them on her trousers. Ronnie called out a beat, and music began to fill the air, too. The newly-familiar exhilaration of playing so  _loudly_  and without inhibition made Susanna smile along. It beat lying in her bed, any night. She  _jived_.

Sweat trickling down her back as more bodies filled the club, Susanna took advantage of a slower ballad to glance around with interest. She’s spent little enough time at clubs like this; her parents had seen to that. But with the freedom of her disguise, and the albeit-reluctant support of her cousin on the trumpet nearby, she lets her fingers slowly draw out the tune on the rickety old piano as her eyes drift away.

_Tangerine..._  
She is all they claim  
With her eyes of night and lips as bright as flame…

There’s laughter, too, between the suit-clad men and the women in frilly dresses with red lipstick and pearl earrings. Many were dancing, pressed close together, or mingled at the bar. It made her sigh a little. Given a choice, she would rather dance with a handsome man than be forced to dress  _as_  a man just to get out of her house.

The glare of her cousin drew her attention back to the bandstand. Not missing a note, Susanna flushed, met Archie’s gaze, and heard his voice echo in her mind:  _Don’t draw attention to yourself! You’ll get us both kicked out._

Archie had the freedom of two extra years on her, and he was allowed to play trumpet at clubs for money. Susanna was not. But she could coerce him into playing along with her charade. She smiled innocently back at him, and he shook his head with a frown.

The song ended. Scattered applause, and the couples dancing broke up. Susanna stretched her fingers and rolled her shoulders, and Ronnie set the beat with his heel on the ground for a faster tune.

_Hello, raiiiiilroad…_  
_Is this the raiiiiilroad_  
_I want a one-way ticket down to Tennessee,_  
I’m leaving immediately  
Chattanooga here I come...

The singer, a slinky blonde in sequins, hummed into the microphone. She was drawing a lot of attention….but evidently not all of it. The skin of Susanna’s neck prickled, and she tried not to jerk around on the bench. Carefully playing along, she glanced around the room again. This time, a pair of eyes was staring back at her from the bar. She squinted – was it someone she knew? No; the slicked-back hair and the lazy smile was unfamiliar. So she shrugged it off, giving her attention back to the music.

_You leave the Pennsylvania station ‘bout a quarter to four  
_ _Read a magazine and you’re in Baltimore…_

The sense of being watched didn’t leave her, itching her skin and unsettling her thoughts.The set wrapped up after midnight, as patrons began to disperse out of the club. The last song was played, and Susanna helped to put away the instruments beneath the stage, pushing the piano with Archie’s help and covering it with a tattered quilt. Her eyes were burning from the acrid, mixed scents of tobacco, spirits and perfume, her tongue heavy with thirst and the rough clothes scratchy against her sweaty skin. 

“Let’s go.” Archie was looking a little tense. He feared her parents as much as she did.“It’s fine,” Susanna said, wandering across the empty dance floor. “Let me freshen up, and I’ll meet you outside.” 

He grumbled, but agreed. The door to the front of the club was swinging shut behind Ronnie; they were essentially alone.

The sole, flickering lightbulb in the backstage hallway lit her way to the bathroom. Ducking into the ladies’ room, Susanna splashed cool water on her face and neck. She took off her cap for a moment to let her hair air out a bit, waving the cap at her face. With a sigh of pleasure, she set it loosely back on her curls, and wandered out of the ladies’ room.

She wasn’t alone. It took only a moment to recognize the profile on the man who had watched her from the bar. The same dark coat, the same height. He looked up at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, and she lifted her chin.

“Hello,” he said.

Susanna, not trusting her voice not to give her gimmick away, settled for a nod.

“Pretty fine playing, back there,” the man said.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. Her back pressed to the wall, she contemplated the rudeness of just walking away.

“You don’t look like the type one sees playing in clubs.”

Pulling her cap further over her eyes, Susanna gave a shrug and tried to sidle down the hall.

“Well, sweetheart?” he asked, giving her a jolt. “Aren’t you gonna compliment me on my detective work?”

Not five feet away from him, she scowled and crossed her arms. “Who’re you calling sweetheart?” she grumbled, in as deep a voice as she could manage.

But the man only smiled. “Just the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen pretending to be a boy. You’re luckily most people watch the singer or who they’re dancing with. It’s not a very good disguise, sweetheart.”

Her face felt hot, and her throat dry. “Are…you going to tell Marcie?” she asked. Marcie owned the club. She had a strict,  _the only females here are singers_   _and patrons_  policy. And if she was exposed...her parents would find out.

“Nah,” the man said, and with another lazy grin he held his hand out to her. His eyes were terribly blue, this close, even in the scant visibility from the lightbulb. “I’m James Barnes. My friends call me Bucky.”

“Good night, James,” Susanna said, inching further away. His brows rose.

“Well, if you won’t give me your name, take my advice – go for a belt next time, not suspenders.”

She blinked. “Okay.”

“Suze! Where are you?”

She whirled around at the sound of Archie calling for her. He appeared at the end of the hallway, in the doorway from the stage. He caught sight of her, and swinging his trumpet case angrily at his side, strode towards them.

“This your boyfriend?” James’s voice was low.

“No,” Susanna managed to say. “My cousin.”

He gave a  _hmm_. It sounded relieved. “I’ll leave you here, then. Good night…Suze.”

She latched onto Archie with more enthusiasm than usual, all too keen to leave this strange man. But despite herself, she could not help glancing back curiously before the squeaky door to the night shut behind them.

He was smiling.

What on earth?


	2. Chapter 2

The unease that this James would somehow expose her, maliciously or accidently, made Susanna's heart race the next few times she played at Marcie's. Her worried eyes were quick to scan the crowd for him, and somehow, he was usually there – but he never gave an outward sign that she was anything other than the boy she pretended. It was irritating that his presence seemed to make her fumble on the piano.

"Take five!" Ronnie said one night, between sets. Archie was wiping his brow from the hot lights around them, and Susanna slipped away to find some water. To her surprise, just beyond the stage James was standing there, with a bottle of soda water and watching her with a smile. He hadn't approached her since that first night, and so she had almost begun to believe he wouldn't do so again. Evidently not.

"Hey there," he told her. "Thirsty?"

"Golly, yes," Susanna said, taking it from him and conveniently forgetting the risk of his knowing her identity. "Thank you." She retreated into the cooler hallway behind the stage, unsurprised that he followed her. Her heart fluttered a little, which was surprising, and she hoped in the dim light would hide her blush.

"I brought my friend Steve tonight," James said, his tone casual. "I told him Marcie's has the best music in Brooklyn."

"That's mighty kind of you."

"Well, it's true. And the company's good, too – I set him up with a redhead at the bar."

Susanna gave him a glance, sipping at the water. "And what about you? Why don't you dance?" That she had noticed his not dancing went unremarked upon.

"Can't dance with the pianist while she – er,  _he_  – is playing with the band," James said with a laugh. "Anyway, we'd look strange, you and I." His expression stilled, and his blue eyes sparkled in the dim light. The chatter from the crowd sounds very far away, and Susanna swallowed. "Can I take you out sometime?" he asked suddenly. "As a girl, I mean."

"I'm not allowed to go with strangers."

"Then let's not be strangers. What's Suze short for?"

She tried to keep from smiling, but his own smile was too darned infectious.

"Susan? Suzanne?" he guessed.

She shook her head, her fingers tight on the bottle. "Only Arch calls me Suze," she said, unhelpfully.

James's eyes narrowed slightly, but the smile lingered. It gave him a teasing, mischievous quality. "I'll figure it out," he said, his smile twisting into a smirk that made her feel queer. "Then will you go out with me?"

"I think you didn't understand what I said. I'm not allowed to go with strangers. My parents have to approve of every boy that takes me out."

"I see." His head nodded gravely. "Can I meet your parents sometime, then?"

Susanna gave a hollow laugh. "For approval, do you mean? Ha! I've only gone out once, and for prom. Why risk getting thrown out of my house by the skin of your pants just so I can turn you down?"

James laughed too, only louder, and where hers had been humorless his was rich and seemed to brighten the corridor with the simple sound. "There's no fun without risk," he chuckled at last. "And anyway, I'm perfectly likeable. Your parents will adore me."

"I doubt  _that_."

"Then let's make it interesting. If I get your parents' permission, I take you out. If not…you never have to see my face again. If you don't want to, of course."

Susanna thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I'm going to win," she warned him, and despite herself, she smiled.

"Sure, you go on thinking that," James teased, and flicked the rim of her cap. "I look forward to our date."

"I look forward to seeing the look on your face when my father tosses you through the hedge."

He laughed again. "Are you trying to frighten me away, sweetheart? I've got more moxie than that!"

"Sure you do." Susanna was about to add on a little more sassing, but the crackling call to return the band members to the stage could be heard from the club, so she passed James the empty bottle with a smirk.

"I'll see you 'round,  _Suze_ ," he called after her. She merely waved back, and returned to the piano, where her feelings were a little less convoluted and a little more predictable. She tried to ignore Archie's glare.

However she tried, Susanna could not shake those blue eyes from her mind that night. She played worse than usual, was distracted as she walked home with Archie, and when she was finally in her nightgown, the scents of smoke and sharp perfume washed from her skin and tuckered down in her frilly bed, she could not sleep despite that it was early morning. In the silent house, it was too easy to hear James's laughter in her mind.

She punched her pillow and rolled over with a sigh. There was no use mooning over him. Handsome he may be, and charming – and completely inaccessible. He was not the type of fellow she could date. Her parents would pick up on it at once, even if he  _did_  manage to find her somehow.

If he could have been a little less handsome, or a little less charming, it might have been easier to anticipate the inevitable disappointment.

* * *

Several nights later, her disquiet still lingering, Susanna was laying on her bed and flipping through an old magazine, bored out of her mind. It was a Saturday night, and her parents stayed awake later than usual on Saturdays. She could never sneak away on Saturdays. It was the longest night of her life.

Idly she listened to the chugging of a car down the otherwise quiet street, and the sound of the television in the living room below where her parents were watching. If only they would go to bed early….and she could change her clothes and climb out the window –

The chugging of the car stopped. A door slammed. The neighbors must have visitors, she thought idly. She turned a page.

The doorbell chimed, and Susanna blinked in surprise, her eyes drifting away from the magazine. Her parents  _never_  had late visitors. Who could it be? She swung her legs over her bed and rushed to the window overlooking to the street. She didn't recognize the car in the darkness, and she pressed her nose to the glass to see below, where light was spilling from the foyer and into the street, around a tall figure with dark hair –

_He had found her!_

Her heart racing, Susanna dropped the magazine and rushed over to yank and the door, sticking her head out the landing to strain to hear. Even if James  _was_  going to get tossed out, she wanted to hear his voice one last time –

"Come in, come in!" Mother's voice was light and welcoming, and Susanna's mouth fell open. Tiptoeing  _very_  carefully, she pressed her back to the opposite wall, peering down the stairs to the sitting room. She could see the top of her father's head, sitting in his usual chair, and James as he sat down on the couch beside her mother.

She couldn't believe it.

"I just couldn't believe it," James was saying, his charming smile in full effect. "When I recognized you at the church social last Saturday."

What the – how did he  _know_?

"My buddy Steve and I played for the Bulldogs for five or six years. Your Warriors kicked our trash every time we played against each other! I wasn't expecting to see you again after all these years, sir."

Father's laugh boomed in the room, and Susanna continued to stare. James knew about her father coaching baseball? He knew the team  _names_? He knew that it was likely one of the only ways a stranger could be invited into their house? He knew about the church socials?

"Harry Feldman was your coach, huh," Father was saying. "A good man, and a good player – but he lacked the ruthlessness that makes a team work extra hard."

James chuckled. "That may be true, sir."

"He retired what, two years back?"

"Yes he did, sir."

"Have you heard from him recently? Haven't seen him myself for longer'n that. Retired myself eight years ago, this summer."

Their voices overlapped and turned to a distant hum. Susanna whirled around to press her back to the wall, her heart pounding in the darkness of the hallway as she blinked around. James  _there_. He was in her house. He had found her. And he was charming her parents.

A split second, and she soared into the bathroom. Her curls were tousled from lounging on her bed, and in a jiffy tidied them up and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. Her breath was a little short, stopping short at the top of the stairs, Susanna smoothed down her plaid skirt and tried to walk down with some dignity, her hand on the railing to keep from trembling.

The conversation stopped. Smiling benignly, Susanna asked innocently, "We have visitors?"

Her parents glanced at her, smiling, but it was James she saw. He was staring, and it was a good thing her parents weren't looking at him – a grin curled his lips, and he inclined his head ever so slightly, his blue eyes shining with admiration.

"Come meet James, Susanna," Mother said, gesturing her to enter the sitting room. "He played against the Warriors years ago."

"Is that so?" Susanna quirked her brow at James, but he appeared unfazed.

"What are the chances?" he asked lazily.

"It was at the church social you recognized Mr. Dickson?" Mother asked, turning back to their guest.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I didn't know you went to St. Francis's," her father said.

"That I do," James said with a laugh. "But I haven't seen you before – likely we go to mass at different times."

"We go at 8 a.m. every Sunday," Mother said with a simper. Susanna pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "We haven't missed a day since that blizzard two years ago. Susanna plays the organ there, sometimes for all the masses on Sunday. Surely you've seen her, before." It was an innocent remark, her mother being perfectly friendly to a fellow Catholic and a baseball player to boot. Susanna flushed all the same, sitting primly on an armchair opposite the couch.

"Yes, I think I have," James said slowly, his eyes on her face as if to study her. "I do my best singing when she's playing the pipes."

Susanna dug her heel into the carpet, giving him as much as a glare as she dared.

"Perhaps we'll see you there, sometime," Mother said.

"I'd like that." James's smile never faded. "I'd best be off now; my ma is expecting me back. Thank you for letting me into your home, sir. It was a pleasure catching up on the teams."

Father stood, and shook his hand. Susanna stared as James took her mother's hand next. All  _she_  got was a saucy wink.

"Good night, James," Mother said, leading him to the door.

"Good night, Mrs. Dickson." And a moment later, she heard the car door shut, and the engine rev.

"Well!" Mother said, gliding back into the room. "What a nice young man."

Father had picked up the newspaper again, and gave a grunt of agreement. Susanna stayed a moment longer, just until the headlights of the car turned out of sight, and retreated to her bedroom.

But she couldn't stay still. She paced a little, and tried to forget that she had lost the bet to James.

A date. A date! Somehow she didn't feel much like a loser.


	3. Chapter 3

The bells of St. Francis were ringing as the morning crowd poured out, laughing and talking. The sun was bright above, and Susanna welcomed the warmth on her face from the cold, drafty chapel. There was a broken window near the organ seat, and she had shivered through the service.

"I'll get the car," Father said, and left her and her mother on the sidewalk as he disappeared.

"I was so sure we would see that nice young man again," Mother was fiddling with a button on her gloves. "He seemed rather taken with you, Susanna dear."

"Oh, I don't think so," she tried to appear unconcerned, "He was mostly interested in baseball, I think."

"Now now, that's a little unfair."

Susanna jumped at the deep voice behind her, and she saw Mother smile before she turned to see James coming 'round. His porkpie was at a jaunty angle, and he was smiling at her.

"Good morning, ma'am," he addressed her mother after a moment. "Fine service today."

"Oh, indeed it was," Mother said. "Kind of you to remember us."

"Not a problem, ma'am. Fine playing of yours, too." James nodded at her, his eyes sparkling. She managed a credible smile, but her hands were sweating in her gloves.

"It's a mighty fine day today," he added, glancing at the sky. "Would be a shame to waste it. Can I walk you home?"

He was addressing her, of course, and not her mother. Susanna glanced at Mother quickly, and saw to her astonishment an indulgent smile. "Er – yes?" she phrased it as a question, and Mother hesitated only a moment before nodding.

"I'll tell your father where you are, dear. I am sure he won't mind."

James tipped his hat to Mother, and offered his arm to Susanna. She swallowed thickly, and wove her arm through it. It was difficult not to be affected by his being so close to her; the faint whiff of cologne and odd sensation of their bodies so near.

"Have a good walk, dears," Mother said, and they turned to navigate through the crowd.

Now that they were alone – sort of, at least – Susanna could not quite calm her heart. She kept her eyes ahead, unwilling to see the expression on James's face.

"I haven't been to mass in years," he said suddenly, his voice low in her ear. "I'm glad I didn't forget where the church was."

Startled, Susanna looked up at him. He was grinning impishly, and at her visible horror he laughed aloud. "I only lied a little," he admitted at last. "My mother is Catholic, even though my pop isn't."

"How did you find me, anyway?" Susanna asked. "Brooklyn's a big place."

"A question for a question. I want to know why a good Catholic girl like you is dressing up like a boy and playing in cheap clubs."

Susanna glanced around in sudden apprehension – but no one appeared to have overheard James's comment. "Fine," she said. "You first."

"Well," James said slowly, an expression of concentration upon his face. "I made friends with your cousin, Archie. Sorta."

"Oh?"

"I found his address on a flyer at the club. He offers trumpet lessons, you know."

"I know."

"So I showed up one night to say hello. He was surprised, to say the least, but invited me in. I saw pictures of your family in his home." James gave her a sideways smile.

"No doubt," Susanna said dryly, her cheeks warm.

"Anyways, while we were chatting your aunt came in. I ended up acting real surprised at recognizing a picture of you. She was suspicious at first, but when I said it was from a church social she warmed right up. Even gave me the address to your place."

"Floy floy."

"It worked, didn't it?" James's eyes were wide, and quickly she looked away. A moment of silence, and his voice was quieter. "Will you go out with me, sweetheart? I know the deal was that you  _had_  to, but if I really have repulsed you by my persistence, I won't force you."

"You haven't asked my parents. What makes you think they'll let me?"

"They won't say no. No parent can resist a good, red-blooded baseball-playing church-going boy. I shined my shoes last night, too," James added with a grin. "I saw your ma admiring them."

Susanna blinked, and then laughed aloud. "You're too clever by half, James Barnes," she said feelingly. "I don't think I should trust you one bit."

"Then I hope I can prove that I'm trustworthy soon enough, Susanna," James said. His eyes were glinting again, and he added, "Suze…Susanna. It's a cute name, sweetheart. Can I call you Susie?"

"I guess. My friends back in school did."

They crossed a street at a brisk walk, dodging traffic as James led her by the hand into one of the residential neighborhoods. Susanna tried not to admire the cut of his jacket on his shoulders as she trailed behind…well, maybe she didn't try very hard.

"So," he said lazily, slowing their stroll. "Tell me how you got started playing at clubs."

"Oh, it's nothing very exciting," Susanna confessed. "I graduated from high school last spring, and my parents won't let me go to college or get a job, and so I had to find something to do or else I would go hog-wild cooped up all day. I was always jealous of Archie playing in jazz clubs, so I pestered him until he agreed to sneak me out. He found me some old clothes, and introduced me 'round as his cousin Stu. I stay quiet enough not to attract attention, so we've been going about eight months."

James let out a low whistle. "Eight months, and I'm the only fellow that saw through your disguise?"

"I lay low," Susanna repeated. "I suppose anyone looking hard enough would notice." This coupled with a very unimpressed stare, had him laughing.

"So you stave off boredom until you're married off by sneaking out as a boy," James mused after a moment. "A good Catholic girl, huh?"

"You said it, not me."

"Then this," he gazed at her proper Sunday getup: heeled shoes, ironed frock, prim hat, coiffed hair, spotless gloves, "is all a sham?"

"No," Susanna said, feeling warm under his appreciative gaze. "Not really. But I can be more besides a good Catholic girl."

"Like a swell jazz pianist," he grinned.

"Sure."

"You said you graduated high school last spring?" James asked next. "So you're what – nineteen?"

"In a month I will be," Susanna said. "Late birthday."

"Phew," he exhaled slowly. "You're just a young'un."

"And you can say that because you are…."

"A bit older," James said with a chuckle. "Just turned twenty-three."

"A  _lot_  older," she couldn't help teasing, "Why, you're practically in retirement!"

"Ugh! Don't remind me." But he was laughing all the same.

"And what do you do with your time, geezer? My parents are going to ask that, you know."

"I load lumber at the docks in the morning." James winked at her. "Respectable enough?"

"Maybe," Susanna said. "And what do you do otherwise?" Was she asking him to prepare him for her parents, or because of her own curiosity? Probably the latter, but she ignored this. She could be interested in him – he was, after all, interested in  _her_.

"I've won welterweight boxing competitions at the local YMCA. Is that something I should tell your parents, or keep my lips buttoned?"

"Well – my father does appreciate athleticism, but boxing is considered needless violence…" Susanna thought aloud. "You had best keep that under wraps."

"I'll just say I exercise at the Y, then."

"Probably for the best."

James cast her another glance, this one amused. "I appreciate you taking my side on this, sweetheart."

"Oh, well," Susanna said, feeling a blush threaten. "If I'm seeing a boy, I'm allowed out of the house more. At least, my sisters were."

"And how many sisters do you have? Tell me more!"

The remainder of their walk, in the Sunday morning sun as they strolled past residences and small businesses alike, was spent discussing their respective families. Susanna was the youngest of five, having three sisters and one brother (all married and scattered between Staten Island, Manhatten, and Brooklyn), and James was the eldest of four and the only son. Her dad was an accountant. His dad owned the lumber-mill James worked for. She had gone the private, all-girls St. Joseph High School, he had gone to the public, co-ed George Washington High. They both loved music, and dancing, too.

"Can't sing to save my life, sadly," James said with a shake of his head as they turned down her street at a leisurely pace. "Never picked up an instrument, either."

"Well, we need your type," Susanna teased. "People to listen – not to compete with."

He laughed. "We'll have to listen together, sometime. I still want to take you dancing."

"You've still a ways to go before  _that_  happens."

"Maybe less than you think," James said, winking at her again, and they climbed the steps to the front door. Quick as a blink, it was pulled open, and Mother stood there, smiling warmly.

"Come inside, James, and refresh yourself!" she said.

"Sorry, ma'am, but I promised my ma I'd take her to mass at ten. Gotta hurry back."

Mother's smile faded a little though she was clearly trying to appear stalwart, and gently Susanna unwove her arm from his. She would have liked to keep him around, perhaps even more than her mother.

"But," James added with a grin. "I was wondering – my sisters hold a quilting club every Monday night. They've invited Susanna to come, if she'd like."

A quilting club? She tried not to stare at him; they hadn't spoken of quilting or clubs. What on earth was he thinking?

"They'd like to meet her," he continued. "With your permission, of course, ma'am."

"Well," Mother said, frowning a little. "Monday nights Mr. Dickson takes the car to city council meetings. Is it very far to walk?"

"Probably too far," James said. "But I could borrow my pop's car, to pick her up and bring her home myself." He glanced quickly at Susanna, his blue eyes twinkling. It really was impressive, the way he was maneuvering around her parents…

"As long as it wouldn't be a hassle," Mother said with a smile. "We wouldn't wish to put you out."

"Not at all, ma'am." He tipped his hat, made his farewells, and strolled back down the street with his hands in his pockets and an off-tune whistle to be heard. Susanna watched him go, and then shook herself back to reality.

"He's a good boy, dear," Mother said, standing back to allow her to enter. Surprised, Susanna stared at her mother, but only a sly smile could be seen.

Maybe it wasn't so hopeless, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Susanna was ready and pacing in the front sitting room of her house a full twenty minutes before James was supposed to be there. She fiddled with her handbag; sitting up and sitting down, tapping her feet, and checking her hair in the mirror several times before, at last, the chug of a car stopped in front of the house.

Quickly she kissed her mother, who smiled on indulgently, and Father, who had disappeared behind a newspaper reading  _BELGINS STARVING; HOPE FOR U.S. HELP_  soon after dinner – he had to finish reading before his meeting in an hour. Out the door, and she nearly collided with James as mounted the top step.

"Hold on a sec, eager beaver," he laughed by way of greeting. "Let me tell your parents hello first."

Susanna tried to compose himself as he briefly went inside, and came back but a moment later, his eyes glinting and his smile twisted smugly.

"I got you 'til eight," he said, offering his arm. "Let's make the most of it."

He cut a fine figure in another dark suit, his hat skewed as always, and his grin broad as he opened the car door for her. Susanna slipped inside, trying to calm her jitters as he climbed in the other side.

"Were you telling the truth about quilting club?" Susanna blurted as he started the car. James glanced at her in mock surprise.

"What, you don't believe me? It cuts me to my heart, Susie, it really does!"

She laughed. "I've seen enough of your antics not to trust you."

"Fine – quilting club is real, I promise. And my sisters really do want to meet you, too."

Weaving back into traffic, James cast her another look, his blue eyes full of…well, mischief. "I have to warn you," he said. "Becky thinks I talk about you too much. She's gonna fill your ears with complaints. Don't believe anything she says."

"Uh huh. And why, exactly, should I believe you over her?"

"Because you know me better, of course."

"Enough to know I shouldn't trust a word you say!"

He was laughing again. "I'll prove myself to you one of these days, Susie-Q." Susanna blushed at the nickname, liking the way his voice said it.

Soon they were heading down a neighborhood she'd never seen before, the buildings tall and brick. Susanna gazed out the window a little bit, feeling nerves roll in her stomach.

"Don't be intimated, sweetheart," James said, and she looked over to see his awfully heart-wrenching smile. "They'll love you."

He parked and ushered her quickly inside one of the buildings, his hand staying tight on hers. There were squeals from inside the apartment when he opened the door. "Quilting can get rowdy with the Barnes girls around," he said in her ear, and goosebumps crawled on her skin as she managed a nervous smile in return.

Susanna had expected the club to be at a church or rec center, and her eyes widened as he dragged her into the front room, where the giggles were the loudest, barely taking in the comfortable furnishings of the home.  _His_  home. The walls were painted a pale blue, and there were pictures hanging on nearly every surface. She barely caught sight of a neatly arrange dining room before he dragged her into a comfortable-furnished, bright sitting room.

Three girls, all dark-haired and blue-eyed like their brother, popped up from around a table with two brightly-colors quilts draped over it. They all stared at her in fascination until the tallest began to hoot with laughter.

"She's a sight prettier than you deserve, Buck!" she said. "Come in, Susie, and enjoy some  _real_  company. I'm Becky."

Her curls bounced around her merry face, and Susanna smiled. "I'd like that. Something to recover from this drip over here." She jerked her head towards James, whose mouth fell open in pretend hurt as his sisters were overcome with gales of laughter.

"She's good for you, Jimbo!" said the second sister.

"She's  _funny_ ," said the youngest, who couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen.

"Let's keep basting, or we'll be here all night," Becky said.

There wasn't a minute of silence after that; James stayed to harass his sisters (and Susanna, alternatively), and with the witty retorts between them, she could well believe quilting club was usually a rowdy affair. Even the basting wasn't so boring, with the shared jokes between the girls.

"Bucky never stops talking about you, you know," Becky whispered to Susanna, some time later while he was being admonished by the youngest, Mary, for pulling on her braids. "He's in a real dizzy, I'll tell you that!"

Susanna felt her cheeks warm, and in her distraction poked her finger with a needle. "He said you'd say that," she whispered back with a grin. "He also said not to believe you."

Becky giggled, and they were interrupted by Ruth as she scooted over to them, her eyes shining.

"Can you really play some jives on the piano?" she asked in a hushed voice. "We all took lessons, but we're  _awful_. Only Ma can stand to listen to us."

"I do play, yes."

Susanna was then, of course, coerced by a chorus of voices to try out the family piano. Mary jumped up and down, tugging on her hand until she relented with a laugh.

"I'll get you back for this," she muttered to James, as he innocently pulled back the piano bench for her.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

The keys were only slightly off-tune, and after a few half-hearted scales to warm up her fingers, Susanna began to belt out one of the favorites of Glenn Miller, and the girls began to hoot around her.

"Killer-diller!"

"You're better than Jimmy said!"

And with more giggles, they began to dance along. James, hovering at her shoulder and making her a bit nervous, was hauled away by Becky to dance, too. Susanna glanced over her shoulder. The quilting was forgotten; pushed out the way so that there was more space. Becky's skirt flailed as James spun her 'round, dark curls bouncing. He was wearing his grin, clearly enjoying himself as he pretended like he wasn't going to catch Becky – but did so at the last minute as she huffed in indignance. Susanna laughed with delight. She couldn't remember having such a fun time since before her sisters moved away.

"What's this racket?"

Susanna jolted and stood, and with the sudden absence of music the breathless laughing ceased, too. A tall, grey-haired woman wearing an apron stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. Susanna gulped, and the woman's eyes turned to her – familiarly blue, and sparkling.

"You must be Susanna," she said. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Good evening, Mrs. Barnes."

"Well, don't let me crash your party. I was only wondering which of my children suddenly grew some talent."

" _Ma..._ " was the whine from Ruth, and Susanna quickly hid a giggle behind her hand.

"Come dance with us!" James said, tugging his mother into the room with a grin.

"Oh Jim, I shouldn't –"

Mrs. Barnes wasn't give much time to protest. Susanna sat back down and started another jive, one she knew well, so she could sneak glances to watch James twirl his mother around, less roughly than his sister. Mary scooted on the bench next to Susanna, watching her fingers fly with wide eyes.

"I'll never play like you," she said mournfully, when Susanna played the final trill.

"Hooey! Just practice more."

"Let me practice a little." Becky swatted Mary away, and fairly shoved Susanna off the bench. There was sheet music to be found and smoothed out, and too interested by the stacks of music on top of the piano, she nearly jumped out of her skin when warm fingers wrapped around hers.

"Our turn." James was smiling, and drew her into the center of the room. Becky began to play, and his other hand wrapped around Susanna's waist as she tried not to squeak aloud. Mrs. Barnes had disappeared, and Ruth and Mary were trying out a new move together. It didn't seem to be going well. Ruth got a knee to the arm, and the girls broke out in a good-natured argument.

The lively song wasn't so badly played as Susanna expected, and she laughed as James spun her in circles.

"I had thought that maybe you exaggerated your own skill," Susanna teased when he brought her in. "I guess not."

"You give my feet wings, baby." And with that smile, he grasped her tightly around the waist, twisting her 'round quickly before dipping her low. The blood rushed to her head. She squealed, and Becky hooted from the piano.

"So?" James asked, when she had caught her breath again. "Can I take you out dancing? You've never told me yes or no, Susie. I'm  _dying_  to know."

With his warm eyes and warm smile, Susanna didn't want to say no. "I'd like to go with you," she said shyly. "But…my parents."

"Don't worry about them, sweetheart. Haven't I been a match for them so far?"

Becky's playing had slowed, and Susanna didn't realize how lazily James was swaying her. There was satisfaction in his smile as he held her so close. She gazed up at him, feeling some rather strange things in her stomach. But she liked it. She liked  _him_.

Susanna was skipping down the stairs and hallways when, at last, it was curfew time. James hadn't stopped smiling, and when he reached the landing he reached up to grasp her waist, twirling her 'round in the air before setting her gently on the ground as she laughed in surprise.

"I've never done such little quilting in my life," Susanna giggled as they strode out into the dark night together.

"Well –" James attempted a mournful look, but it was betrayed by his grin. "Maybe next week will be more productive."

Privately she doubted it, and wondered if she would be allowed to go again. Settling into the seat of the car, she fidgeted with her handbag as James started the car.

"James," she said abruptly. "Why do you like me so much?"

He was quiet for a moment as he joined the traffic. Then he glanced over, giving her a long, lazy glance. "You know, it's not every dame that will disguise herself as a boy and go play at clubs. As soon as I saw through your disguise, I knew you had to be something special."

"Oh," Susanna said in a small voice.

"And you're more than special," he added. "It's not every good Catholic girl that can make a fellow laugh as you do. You jive better than most, and you have the sass to impress my sisters. I adore you, Susie. I really do. And you're pretty to boot." James tugged on the end of one of her curls then, affectionately, not teasingly. Susanna was sure her face was red. Fortunately it was dim inside the car.

"Well. When are you going to take me dancing, then?"

He laughed, loud and long. "You'll have to wear your dancing shoes every night, sweetheart, and one night I'll surprise you."

"You're off the cob! What makes you think I won't go out dancing with some other guy instead, while I'm waiting for you?"

James's smile grew rigid as his eyes widened. Susanna wondered if she had said the wrong thing, but when he looked at her again his eyes were glinting dark blue. "I guess I need to straighten up my act, then. How does Friday sound?"

"If we get permission, yes."

Susanna read the hands on James's watch as he stopped in front of her house; they had two minutes to spare. So, feeling brave, she leaned across the seat to plant a very quick, and hopefully invisible from the window, kiss on his cheek.

"See you on Friday, Jim."

He blinked at her, evidently confounded, and she smiled. Then he chuckled, and climbed out of the car to open her door.

"Should I ask your parents tonight?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Probably not. They go to bed at eight every night. They won't want to stay up."

"Soon, then. G'night, sweetheart."

There was a glint in James's eyes that was better than about anything, and Susanna positively flew in through the door, her nerves all afire.

"Have a good night, dear?" Mother was waiting in the sitting room, a book on her lap.

"Yes. James's sisters are very nice, and we had a marvelous time – er, quilting."

"I've been thinking, dear," Mother said, and stood to glide over to Susanna. "James has been kind to you. We must be kind in return. Why don't you invite him to supper, sometime?"

She blinked, amazed at this change in her mother. "Oh, yes, of course," Susanna stuttered.

"Can you call him and ask if Friday will do?"

Friday. Susanna smiled a secret smile to herself, and said, "Yes, I will."


	5. Chapter 5

The scrawled number, which James had slipped into her purse some time back, was called the very next evening, and his delight at her calling him could be heard even over the telephone. He agreed to come on Friday, and Susanna was left to wait impatiently for the week to end.

She was waiting at the door when he arrived, determined to greet him before her parents, and it was worth it – he was looking mighty handsome on the front steps, smiling at her as he took in the sight of her in her fine red dress.

"You're a real dish, Susie," Jim said softly. "I'm the luckiest fellow in Brooklyn."

"Oh, floy floy," Susanna retorted, though her cheeks were pink. "Come in quick. You promised me dancing tonight and I'm raring to go. You'd better convince my parents fast."

"You say it like it's a challenge, sweetheart," he teased, and she closed the door behind him. The entryway was suddenly seeming very close, and he was awfully tall next to her –

"James dear, how lovely to see you." They were interrupted by Mother, who sailed in as she fluffed her hair. "How is your family?"

"Very well, ma'am," James said, straightening his jacket. "My ma sent along a fruit platter." And he offered to her the tray he held in his hands. Susanna had overlooked it, being too distracted by the man holding it. Nervously she fiddled with an earring.

"Such a dear!" Mother said. "Come inside; supper is on the table."

Somehow, despite her nerves and everything, Susanna found that supper was perfectly enjoyable and not the least bit awkward. Sitting between her parents and able to observe Jim across the table, she laughed along with his jokes (as did her parents), and was quick to confirm any…half-truths he happened to let slip about the quilting club.

"My sisters adored Susie," James said over hors d'oeuvres. "Got a lot done on their projects, too. They begged me to bring her back every Monday."

"I think that can be arranged. What quilts were you sewing, dear?" This to Susanna, who swallowed too fast and choked a little.

"Something for the war efforts in Europe," Jim was quick to say. "My sisters and ma are involved in charity work at St. Francis."

Mother nodded. "Oh yes, the nuns have been organizing relief baskets. I've sent along some canned food and old clothing, but perhaps I can do more." Mother would  _never_  be outdone by someone else's charity. Susanna bit her lip, quickly looking down at her plate to keep from laughing. If she caught Jim's eye, she would be lost.

There was pot roast and salad next, which she barely noticed. Mother asked if James was baptized at St. Francis; he said he was. And an altar boy for three years, to boot. Susanna barely heard Mother's gasp of joy. There was the slightest wink from James, and she smiled.

"Susanna made a cake for dessert tonight," Mother said, as she brought in the platter of cake. Susanna trailed behind with ice cream, embarrassed. "She's such a wonderful baker."

"I believe it," Jim said, grinning at her.

Susanna thought this was a pretty hard sell, and listening to her mother praise her up and down to James had her shifting uncomfortably in her chair. Would he notice the intention behind the heavy praise? It worried her. Finally the supper was over, sighs of satisfaction all around the table, and James cleared his throat.

"My friend is playing at a club in Manhattan tonight," he said, addressing her parents. "I was thinking Susanna might like to go out and hear the music."

Silence. Then Father cleared his throat. "Son, it's time we had a talk. Come with me."

There was no sign of worry on Jim's face. He appeared perfectly at ease following her father out of the room.

"We're very pleased with James, dear," Mother said, once the men had left. Susanna managed a smile. "He seems to come from a fine family, his manners are wonderful, and he is so attentive. I'm sure your father will approve."

 _I hope so_ , she thought to herself, and stood to help clear the table.

It seemed an eternity to wait, listening with trepidation to the voices beyond the sitting room door while she cleaned the dishes. Mother was humming to herself as she swept, and Susanna began to feel sick. What if Father decided Jim didn't make the cut? Would he be sent away? And she'd never see him again?

No. He would still go to Marcie's, she was suddenly sure of it. It wouldn't be goodbye forever. But without her parents' approval there would be no more than clandestine flirting. No dancing, no more quilting club…

Finally the door swung open, and she nearly dropped a glass cup, jolted from her anxious worries.

"Perhaps at the next church social," Father was saying, his hand clapped on Jim's shoulder.

"Sure, sir. I'll let my parents know."

Susanna stared. Jim met her eyes. His smile was smug. She could read it from across the room. Her worry dissipated at once.

"He'll have her back by ten, Maria," Father said to Mother. "Go on, Susanna. Don't keep your boy waiting."

She rushed away, forgetting that she still wore a checkered apron. Up the stairs, and into her bedroom where she had laid out, hope against hope, hat and handbag and gloves. Quickly she tidied her hair, applied lipstick, and bounded back down the stairs to where Jim was waiting. Susanna called a goodbye to her parents, and they swept out the door arm-in-arm.

The sun was setting lazily to the west, flickering gold and orange between tall buildings as James drove them north. Susanna gazed out the window for a while, listening to the honks and shouts outside before he cleared his throat, drawing her attention back.

"Now, sweetheart, I don't mean to gloat," he said, giving her a look. "But your parents aren't half as frightening as you led me to believe."

"You got off easy," Susanna retorted. "You made them like you. Baseball and church, and all those compliments you were giving Mother on her cooking – I'm surprised they didn't ask you to marry me right then!"

Jim laughed aloud, and she immediately wanted to hit herself.

"I mean, you  _do_  know that's what they want, right," she added, her voice trembling a little. "My sisters were only allowed out with the boys they married…my parents have certain expectations now."

"Oh? Tell me more."

Susanna couldn't tell if he was teasing or not. Annoyed, she crinkled her nose. "Well, I'm a good Catholic girl. I'm supposed marry a good Catholic boy and have a bundle of babies. And according my parents, that'll be  _you_."

"Hmm." James rubbed his chin in thought, eyes on the traffic ahead of them. Her stomach twisted with nerves; should she not have said it? It was  _true_. Would he back out now? Would he –? "How many is in a bundle, anyway?" he asked after a moment. "I was thinking an even four would do." And she saw the twinkle in his eyes.

"James Barnes!" Susanna burst. "You aren't taking this the least bit seriously!"

"Oh, I'm taking it extremely seriously, sweetheart. I promise."

Her head was spinning, and the noise of traffic seemed muted and faraway in her ears. All she could hear was her pounding heartbeat. Fanning herself a little with her hand, Susanna asked flatly to disguise her emotion, "What did you tell my father, anyway?"

"Just your regular ol' gobbledegook. My job, my family, my intentions with you. What I mean to do with my life. How I'll treat you on our dates."

Dates. That was plural.

"And he wants to meet my ma and pop," James continued. "I'll have to get them to a church social, sometime. My ma hasn't been since the, uh, disagreement she had with the archdeacon a few years back."

Of course Susanna wanted to hear every detail of  _that_ , and the rest of the drive to the club was less serious than the start. She laughed and laughed to hear Jim tell of his ma, his kind, cheerful ma, arguing with an archdeacon over whether saltine crackers could be blessed and served as sacrament same as wafers and at less cost to the tithe-payers.

When at last they were parked on a lively street, the music and voices audible even from the street, James looped his arm 'round her shoulders as they walked into the club. It was much nicer than Marcie's, and Susanna felt flushed with the warmth and music and high spirits.

"Ready to cut a rug, Susie-Q?" Jim asked, his eyes bright.

"Born ready," she said, and he laughed.

Susanna never had so much fun dancing as she did that night. The music was killer, the club perfectly rowdy, and James – he was  _wonderful_. They didn't dance with anyone else, but by the look in his eye she wasn't the least bit surprised. He never looked away from her, smiling and laughing along as they twirled and bumped and jived between other couples.

How many weeks ago had she watched couples dance, wishing she could be among them instead of playing for them? And now…

"Whatcha thinking, sweetheart?"

"Only that I'm glad to be here, with you," Susanna said at once in perfectly honesty. He grinned, preening at the apparent compliment. "So thank you," she added before he twirled her out, and they shorty-georged it back in.

"It's pretty selfish of me, you know," he said in a low voice, when they had come together again. "I really like you, Susie. So don't thank me."

It grew late, and James shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves as the air grew hotter. Susanna was wiping her forehead with her sleeve, out of breath for so much laughing and dancing. Every so often the music slowed, and they could catch their breath. Jim held her close, his cheek pressed to her hair as he hummed along to Dick Haymes in her ear. It made her heart race and her stomach flutter, and she loved it.

 _It had to be you, it had to be you_ __  
I wandered around and finally found, that somebody who  
Could make me be true  
Could make me feel blue…

"Alright, shincracker," he murmured a while later. "I have to have you home in an hour. Want to stay and keep jivin'? Or there's a great place for milkshakes nearby if you're thirsty."

"Whatever you like," Susanna had closed her eyes, just to feel his arms around her all the better. However lean he looked in his suit, without a jacket and his arms exposed he was anything  _but._  Boxing champion, indeed. And the way he had lifted her and spun her 'round…

"I'm asking  _you_!" Jim laughed. "Whaddya say?"

"I suppose I'm a bit thirsty."

The night air was cool after the club, and Susanna shivered as they strode down the street. James was quick to pull his jacket off his shoulders and drape it around hers, holding her hand tightly.

"Oh!" she said after a moment. "You said you had a friend playing there. I didn't get to meet him!"

"Well, that may have been a  _slight_  exaggeration, sweetheart," Jim said, only looking a little remorseful. "I've meet the trombonist before, that's all. Can't remember his name."

Susanna giggled. "You're a clucklehead, Jim, really!"

He was laughing as he opened the door for her, and she blinked in the bright lights of the diner. There were red leather seats looking out to the still-busy streets, and there they sipped their milkshakes.

"Wanna do this again next Friday, Susie?" Jim asked. He was smiling lazily at her, that smug half-smile that she was growing to love. Susanna smiled. The answer was easy.

"Yes, please!"


	6. Chapter 6

Susanna had never been so happy in her life. Nor so busy.

Sundays, of course, she played the organ for mass. Every week Jim was there in the congregation, and she could feel his gaze even among the hundreds. And every week, he walked her home.

The threat to take her to quilting club every Monday came to pass, and between impromptu jives and occasionally sneaking out early for a soda there was actual sewing done. Susanna was readily accepted as a comrade to the Barnes sisters, and earned invitations to have supper with his family. Those were wonderful nights – the cheeriness of family gatherings, absent from her home since her siblings were gone, sunk into her bones with deep comfort and belonging.

Tuesdays James usually worked late and then boxed at the YMCA afterwards, and so Susanna found her way out of her house by way of the fire escape to join Archie playing at Marcie's. Archie was naturally relieved that Susanna was filling her time with other things than risking getting him kicked out of clubs. Those nights Jim would come 'round midnight, looking tired but happy to see her, and lingered backstage to keep her company. And however he teased her, no one else saw through her thin disguise, and she kept playing.

Wednesdays she practiced organ at the church in the evenings, and Thursdays she went with her mother to pack relief boxes at St. Francis's for the war in Europe. Those were the loneliest nights, but after her parents were asleep she would sneak to the telephone and call Jim, and they would spend hours gabbing in whispers. He would tell her of the boxing he did at the Y; the fights he won and lost (mostly won), and how he was trying to train is friend Steve to box as well.

"It's hopeless," Jim would complain. "I pat his shoulder and he bruises. His ma is going to think he's gettin' beat up every other night. Though, to be fair, it is sorta true…"

Fridays they danced, and Saturdays were church socials. Those were particularly strange; Susanna thought it odd to see her Jim in the prim, proper atmosphere of these evenings. But he still charmed everyone, albeit more subtlety. The introduction of their respective parents finally took place, too, and with approval on both sides.

"Goll-lee, Susie," came a whisper to her, and looking away from the ice cream she was serving herself, Susanna smiled to see her friend Norma Jean. Norma's eyes were wide, looking at Jim several feet away and speaking to Father. "You're real lucky."

"Oh, but it comes at a cost," Susanna couldn't help teasing, sure that she had seen Jim cock his head in her direction, as if trying to listen to her words. "Jim's a great date, to be sure, but I'm sure I haven't had an evening to myself in weeks!"

"So worth it," Norma sighed. "The fellow my sister set me up with last week is a real crumb. Can't shake him." And then she jumped, looking wary. "He's coming! Tell him I've gone to take a powder."

Susanna tried not to laugh, and when the unfortunate boy came through the crowd looking confused at Norma's disappearance, she dutifully explained to him that she was in the ladies' room. He left, looking defeated.

"I come at a cost, eh?"

Susanna nearly bit through a bite of ice cream in surprise as her teeth ached in protest, staring up at Jim. He was leaning against the refreshments table. He had evidently crept up on her while she was dissuading Norma Jean's date. But while his arms were crossed as if mightily offended, his eyes were as sparkling as ever.

"It's true," she said, grinning unrepentantly.

"Well, I don't feel bad."

"Good. Neither do I."

One night in July they lay on the hood of Jim's pop's car, parked somewhere on Staten Island and watching the few stars visible twinkle above. It was quiet there, for New York; the distant honks and beeps of traffic were no more than a niggle in the ear, and nearer was the river lapping quietly at the bank. Susanna was tired from dancing and the little sleep she seemed to be getting, and she yawned, eyes closing out the stars above.

"Hey," Jim said softly beside her. "Don't fall asleep."

"Yeah, ok." Susanna stretched out with another yawn, forcing her eyes open. He had left the radio on in the car, and Vaughn Monroe's crooning filled the comfortable silence between them.

 _My devotion_  
Is endless and deep as the ocean  
And like a star shining from afar  
Remains forever the same…

"Susie?"

"Hmm."

"Are you my girl?"

She turned to head to stare at Jim beside her. He was grinning, as he usually did, but there was a softness in his eyes. The temptation to tease him was overcome by the pure sweetness of the moment.

"Of course."

"I'm glad." And his fingers creeped across the hood to lace with hers. Susanna smiled, feeling her face warm, and scooted closer to him, just by an inch.

 _My devotion_  
Is not just a sudden emotion  
It will be constantly burning  
And your love will kindle the flame…

"You're gonna fall asleep, sweetheart," James said at last. She peeked her eyes open to watch as he hopped off the hood of the car and stretched. "Come on. Let's go tell Steve you agreed to be my girl."

"Show off," Susanna teased, taking his hand to leap off as well.

"My girl is prettiest dame in Brooklyn, of course I'm gonna show off! What fellow wouldn't?"

"Just Brooklyn?" she asked as he opened the door for her.

"Now you're just fishin' for compliments!" Jim laughed.

They cruised back to Brooklyn under the inky sky. The stars weren't so visible here, and it made Susanna feel strangely sad. Still James held her hand on the plush seat between them, his fingers stroking absent circles on her knuckles. He seemed very certain of where he might find his friend, and soon they stopped in front of a soda shop. Sure enough, Jim waved to a young man in the window, who lifted his hand back in greeting with a smile.

Susanna liked Steve. He was barely taller than her, but fair-haired and solemn. He was perfectly polite, and with James keeping things lively between the three of them, Steve relaxed and laughed along with them.

"Steve is in art school," Jim explained to her. "He convinced me to take some classes with him some evenings this summer."

"I can't imagine that going well," Susanna teased him, which drew a smile of approval from Steve.

"It's not," Jim said good-naturedly.

"He's terrible," Steve said to Susanna in an aside. She hid a giggle. James, standing behind her swiveling chair at the bar, tugged on one of her curls and she turned to scowl at him. But he only grinned.

"If I'd known the pair of you would gang up on me, I wouldn't have introduced you!"

"We were practicing birds last week," Steve continued to her, ignoring Jim. "His turned out more like a polar bear with a parachute."

Susanna burst out laughing.

"Hey!" Jim protested.

"Shh!" Steve waved his hand towards them, nodding at the man cleaning glasses behind the bar. A staticy radio was barely audible, but the man twisted the volume up, and an official sounding voice boomed through the shop.

" _The U.S. has been urged not to push France to a 'contrary peace'; reports state that Laval says that Hitler vows no revenge. In session today, Congress has deemed the future of liberty secure without American intervention, with…"_

Jim's hand had tightened on the counter, Susanna stared at his white knuckles with a frown. Steve's jaw was ticking. She did not miss the look exchanged between them.

"Stupid," Steve said. "They can pretend there's going to be peace all they want, but this ain't going to stop."

"Yeah. But don't snap your cap," James said, and he straightened, his smile gone. "Come on, Susie, it's almost Cinderella time."

Disquieted by this cryptic exchange, Susanna meekly hopped down from her chair, taking Jim's arm after farewelling Steve fondly. Steve merely gave her a nod, distracted. She was quiet as James drove her home. And for the first time, so was he.

He kissed her cheek beneath the flickering porch light. "Night, Susie-Q," Jim whispered. She squeezed his hand before disappearing inside with her heart aching.


	7. Chapter 7

"Jim," Susanna asked the next Friday night, as they swayed along to Jimmy Dorsey. "You – you want to go to war, don't you."

She had spent many hours of painful thinking upon this exact topic. And as he drew back his head to smile wryly down at her, her every suspicion was confirmed.

"Well, yeah. It's pretty hard for a fellow to see the world in chaos and not want to help it."

"Not the world," Susanna contradicted. "Just Europe. Not – not here."

"Doesn't matter," Jim told her, spinning her 'round. His words were soft, just for her. "It starts in Europe and the Pacific, but it'll spill over eventually. Somehow. It's easier to stop madmen when they've just barely begun instead of waiting until we're the only ones left free."

Susanna bit her lip, unable to respond.

"Anyway," he added. "Can't do anything until Congress does something. And they'll wait as long as they can. It's not right not to help our allies. Gone through a whole war together already and we forget 'em as soon as we prosper. It just ain't right."

"No," she said. "I guess not."

"Now tell me this," James said briskly. "A little birdie whispered in my ear next Saturday's your birthday. Got any plans?"

"Oh! No, I haven't."

"Good. Now you do."

Susanna raised her brows at him. "And what are they?"

His grin lit his face, and she forgot every thought of war. It was hard to think of anything except his bright blue eyes when he was so near. "It's a surprise, sweetheart."

Of  _course_  it was. She should have expected it.

The next Saturday couldn't come soon enough. After breakfast Susanna heard the familiar chug of Jim's pop's car coming down the street. On her way out the door, she was stopped by her mother, who handed her a bag.

"Have a lovely day, dear," Mother said, kissing her cheek. "I packed you some things you'll want."

"Oh – thank you?" Susanna tried to peek in the bag, but Jim was bounding up the steps. His cap was pushed back, his dark hair ruffled. For the hot day, he was wearing a white-striped shirt and suspenders, the sleeves rolled past his elbow. She stared at his bared arms as he gave her mother a quick greeting, and he practically dragged Susanna down the steps.

"Pop needs the car today, but he promised to drive us there," Jim said. "Afraid we'll have to squeeze in the back –"

And to her surprise, when she climbed into the car she saw Becky and Steve sitting in the backseat, looking as though they weren't quite sure how they had gotten there.

"Good Morning, Susanna. And happy birthday." Mr. Barnes said pleasantly from the front. Susanna tried not to stare, but Jim's same smile reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Thank you, sir."

Mr. Barnes drove back into traffic, the radio playing softly in the background.

"Sorry 'bout the chaperones," James murmured, and Susanna shifted in between him and Becky, trying to get comfortable. He lifted his arm over her head, and she flushed again.

"You're making it sound like you don't want us here, Bucky," Becky said, flipping her black curls over her shoulder. Steve's eyes flitted to Becky, and Susanna smiled.

"I like having you here," she told them. "You can me where we're going. Jim won't say a word."

Steve opened his mouth, but Becky shushed him. His ears turned red.

"It's a secret!" Becky said, her eyes glittering. "Of course we can't tell you. Bucky would tan our hides."

"Well, I'm going to find out soon enough, anyways," Susanna sniffed. "I don't see any more reason for secrecy." And she elbowed Jim in the ribs as he laughed.

"Fine!" he said. "We're goin' to Coney Island. It'll be busy because it's the last weekend before school starts, but I think we'll have fun anyway."

"Oh! Oh!" Susanna couldn't speak; she had never been to Coney Island before. Sometimes at night she had seen the lights from the Ferris wheel from the back of her parents' car. She had dreamed of going – and here she finally would. She smiled, grasping Jim's hand. He turned to grin at her, his eyes alight with the surprise.

"Thank you," she said.

"I figured you'd like to go," he said. "And I got your curfew pushed 'till midnight, so we've got all day, baby." And he clucked her chin affectionately, making her blush.

"Ugh, I do  _not_  want to hear this," Becky said loudly. "Dad, turn up the radio, would you?"

Mr. Barnes obliged. Jimmy Dorsey filled the car.

 _Amapola, my pretty little poppy_  
You're like that lovely flower so sweet and heavenly  
Since I found you, my heart is wrapped around you  
And loving you, it seems to beat a rhapsody…

"I know it'll be annoying having them around," Jim told her softly beneath the music. "It was the only way your parents would let me keep you out all day."

"I don't mind," Susanna whispered back. "People get lost at Coney Island all the time, I hear."

James gave a snort of laughter, squeezing her knee affectionately. "You're more conniving than you let on, Susie-Q. Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Then don't do anything to get on it,  _mister_."

The sun was bright and hot when Mr. Barnes dropped them off at the entrance. "Have fun, kiddos," he called as they clambered out.

"Thank you, sir," Susanna tried to say, but Jim was tugging her away. He looped his arm over her shoulder as Becky and Steve trailed behind.

"Now," he said with that heart-wrenching grin. "What do you want to do first?"

Susanna just wanted to look. She couldn't help staring every which way; the striped tents and bright banners, the hundreds of bodies cramped so close together, the sounds of music and shouts and laughter. A carousal was lazily turning as children shrieked with excitement, and the top of the Ferris wheel was barely visible above the tents. And so many  _smells_ ; Susanna gazed around, her eyes wide. There were no words for it, though Jim was laughing at her expression. Then Steve insisted on stopping to play a game of shooting ducks.

"Oh, win me the penguin, Stevie!" Becky cried.

With both Jim and Steve shooting, it was hard to tell who was hitting which ducks – but more went down on Steve's side. Susanna didn't think Jim was aiming very well, but he was laughing as he clapped Steve over when the music winded down, all the same.

"Maybe your eyesight is finally improving," Jim was saying. Steve only looked confused as the carny lifted down the penguin with a hook, presenting it to him with an impressed, "Nice shooting, bud."

They continued through the crowds, Susanna linked between Jim and Becky. They kept her feet moving, for without them she would have stopped and gaped at everything.

Becky gasped. "We need cotton candy!" And she tried to steer them towards a stand.

"No," Jim said, pushing back. They all bumped together awkwardly, and Steve nearly lost his footing. "It's only 10 in the morning, Becky. The last thing we need is you on a sugar crash."

Becky pouted. "You owe me."

"Fine. Let's ride the Ferris wheel before it gets too hot."

"Well, someone's bossy," Susanna said under her breath, just for Jim. He glanced down at her, eyes blazing.

"Well, we're on a tight schedule," he said reasonably. "Much to do, much to see. Gotta keep the chaperones in line."

"I heard that," Becky intoned.

All her life she had wanted to ride this Ferris wheel, and it was better than Susanna ever could have imagined. Though she had to shield her eyes from the bright sun, she could see for miles, the tall buildings of New York in the distance, and nearer, the jumbled and inviting chaos of Coney Island below and the serene blue of the ripping bay. Tucked up close to Jim, she barely noticed that he was watching her instead of the view.

"You like it?" he asked with his wry, twisted smile.

"Love it," Susanna breathed.

The rest of the morning was spent playing games and going on rides, and after hot dogs all around they moseyed to the beach for swimming. Susanna was delighted that her mother had sent her with a swimsuit and a towel. It was difficult elbowing through the crowd of people to find an empty path of sand, but the water was somewhat better. And deliciously refreshing after traipsing in the hot sun for the last several hours.

Susanna could swim perfectly well, Becky could swim, Jim was flittering around practically like a fish, but they stayed near the shore. Steve, thinner than ever in his bathing suit, looked like he might be swept away by a wave. There was great deal of splashing, and Susanna was sure her hair had never looked more bedraggled. But she was too busy laughing to care; gaining up with Becky to try to catch Jim as push him underwater. Mostly he escaped them, all smugness and twinkling eyes. Then he took pity, and when they let him resurface again he rigorously shook his soaked head and sprayed them all.

When they finally dragged themselves out of the water, it was late enough that the beach was emptying of the afternoon crowd. They collapsed on the sand, and Susanna was quiet as she watched the rays from the setting sun streak across the ocean. Becky was bickering with Jim about something or another, and a shivering Steve quickly buttoned his shirt back on.

"Fine!" Becky said loudly. " _Fine_! Susie, let's go change. Then I guess Steve and I are getting the shaft."

Susanna was too bemused to ask questions, but she went along with Becky to one of the shelters to exchange their wet bathing suits for their now-wrinkled dresses. There was a half-hearted attempt to fix each other's hair – Susanna couldn't help feeling envious of Becky's natural curls, which were already bouncing back into place, while  _her_  limp hair was pinned back in some semblance of neatness.

The boys were already waiting; leaning on the railing of a nearby dock with their jackets slung over their shoulders. They were laughing together at something, and Susanna bit her lip as she drank in the sight of Jim. She still wasn't tired of him – not after the long day, not after the weeks of flirting. She wouldn't tire of him. Not ever.

The electric lights above flickered on. Becky nudged Susanna towards Jim, and with a huff of indignity she wove her arm through Steve's and dragged him away.

Susanna stared at Jim, her cheeks warm. He grinned back.

"It sure is easy to lose folks around Coney Island," Jim mused. She burst into laughter, and chuckling alone, he offered her his arm.

The night sky was a deep purple, absolutely lovely with the lights of New York in the distance, and the nearer lights and music of the rides. Together they strolled down the boardwalk out to the ocean; it was mostly empty, and they had all the time in the world.

Suddenly the sky erupted with colorful sparks, and Susanna gasped aloud.  _Fireworks_  – and they kept going and going, exploding in reds and blues and greens and yellows.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Gaping, she turned to see Jim's wry smile down at her. No – it couldn't be.

"You didn't arrange these – did you?"

"Of course! Nothing but the best for  _my_  girl."

Susanna giggled, not quite believing him. They paused at the end of the boardwalk. Jim leaned against the railing, tugging her close. They stood in silence for a few moments, absorbed in the colorful show against the inky black sky.

"Oh, Jim –  _thank you_. This is the best birthday gift ever." Susanna sighed into his embrace, gazing at the fireworks above. The booms and blasts were so loud; his heartbeat near her ear was louder.

"This isn't all," Jim said with a low chuckle. "I mean, it's part, but…" He trailed off, and gently lifted her chin. Susanna blinked up at him. His eyes seemed very large in the dark, glittering down at her. "Something else to remember," he whispered, and leaned down to press his lips gently to hers.

And the whole world was, in that moment, utterly perfect.

The long day finally caught up to Susanna on the train home; even with the bright lights flickering above, she closed her eyes and snuggled into Jim's arms, resting her head on his chest. Becky and Steve were across from them, but she was too sleepy to care. Too utterly, completely happy.


	8. Chapter 8

Those were the last, lazy summer days. Soon after the crisp of autumn began to creep into the mornings, and then the afternoons, and the leaves of the trees in Brooklyn became flames of foliage and fell.

"You think it's bad now, just wait 'til winter," Jim laughs, one Sunday after church, huddling Susanna into his jacket as they rushed to her home together, despite the wind pushing them back. Dry leaves were skittering on the empty sidewalk - no one else was quite brave enough to brave the weather, but it was worth Jim's company. Still, Susanna was a little irritated at the wind, which was flicking up her skirt and burning her cheeks into a bright red. But with Jim grinning down at her, she couldn't stay mad.

"No, thank you," she said pertly. "I can't stand the snow."

"Is that so?" He raised his brows at her. "It's gonna be a challenge for me to drag you out to go dancing this winter, won't it?"

Susanna felt her cheeks warm. "Well, maybe not. Which reminds me - I won't be here next weekend. We're going to visit my brother in Staten Island."

"So far?" Jim asked, eyes twinkling.

"My parents wanted to make a vacation out of it. We'll be gone four days."

He let out a long, whistling exhale. "And what am I gonna do without ya, huh?" Jim asked with a grin. "Might have to find a new hobby. What does your brother do, again?"

"He builds furniture," Susanna said, and without thinking she added, "He's going to be making me a hope chest."

Immediately she knew it was the wrong thing to say. James's smile curled upwards with a sly tilt, and Susanna coughed delicately as she forced her gaze to the sidewalk ahead. But he's clearly not going to let it go.

"Oh? You gonna fill it with pretty napkins and candlesticks, sweetheart?"

"That is what one generally does," Susanna said stiffly.

"Have you been embroidering pillowcases in your spare time?"

"I don't have any spare time, now do I?" she retorted, casting him a glare. "Not when you've got me out all hours of the night."

"Shame on me, I guess," Jim murmured. Susanna blinked in confusion at this response; but they were already to her house, and they said goodbye before she could quiz him.

The hope chest became a small point of contention in Susanna's life - two weeks from her embarrassing admission to Jim, when he had come to her house to take her dancing as was usual for their Friday nights - her mother immediately ushered him inside to show off that darn chest.

"It's very nice," James was saying when Susanna rushed downstairs, cheeks red. He admired the scrolled handiwork, the finely oiled-hinges. Why, oh  _why_  hadn't she protested more when Mother suggested they leave it in the front entryway?

She did  _not_  appreciate the laughter in Jim's eyes as he glanced at her.

"Anything in it, yet?" he asked. Susanna sniffed, but Mother was quick to answer.

"Indeed. Susanna and her sisters used to knit in the winters when they were young; what did you make, Susie? A couple of sweater, a tea cozy. Scarves and mittens." Mother opened the lid of the chest again, allowing Jim to peer inside and make more admiring comments.

"Let's go," Susanna said shortly, tugging on Jim's hand.

"But - "

"Let's  _go_. Goodbye, Mother."

James allowed himself to be dragged away, and when they were finally out of Susanna's house and on the sidewalk he began to laugh loudly, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Don't you want me admiring your pretty things?"

"Not really," she said, glaring up at him. "You and Mother - I swear you're conspiring to humiliate me."

"What's humiliating about a hope chest?"

Sure that her cheeks were deeply stained, Susanna made a face, scrunching her nose. "It's insinuating."

"And what does it insinuate?"

"Oh - you  _know_. Don't be a fat-head."

Jim was enjoying himself too much. It was only a short walk to the club they'd planned on for that night, made faster by a brisk pace to get out of the cold. Once they were safely inside the warm building, Susanna determined to put the matter from her mind, though Jim's sly smile remained.

A few weeks later Susanna was busying herself during the dull hours of Sunday afternoon by ironing a set of fabric napkins left to her from her grandmother. As much as she was trying to avoid talking about it, she was pleased to add whatever she could to her hope chest. She would  _not_  tell Jim. Cranking up the radio and swaying her hips along to Glenn Miller, Susanna nearly burned her fingers once or twice - but didn't care.

The music was cut off. She burned a finger again, and sticking into her mouth to lessen the sting, Susanna listened idly as an official-sounding voice started jabbering.

_"Hello, NBC. Hello, NBC. This is KTU in Honolulu, Hawaii. I am speaking from the roof of the Advertiser Publishing Company Building. We have witnessed this morning the distant view a brief full battle of Pearl Harbor and the severe bombing of Pearl Harbor by enemy planes, undoubtedly Japanese. The city of Honolulu has also been attacked and considerable damage done."_

She didn't notice her father standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his arms folded as a frown creased his face.

_"This battle has been going on for nearly three hours. One of the bombs dropped within fifty feet of KTU tower. It is no joke. It is a real war. The public of Honolulu has been advised to keep in their homes and away from the Army and Navy. There has been serious fighting going on in the air and in the sea. The heavy shooting seems to be . . . a little interruption. We cannot estimate just how much damage has been done, but it has been a very severe attack. The Navy and Army appear now to have the air and the sea under control."_

"I'm going out, Maria," Father called, setting his newspaper down on the table. Susanna barely heard; there was a rushing in her ears that made it difficult to focus. Dimly she registered Mother telling Father not to go, not to leave them… Susanna saw a burned hole appear in the middle of a napkin, and she jolted back.

By Monday the surrealness of everything hadn't quite dissipated; Mother spent most of the day talking to family members on the phone, and Father was tied up with the city council. Susanna had no such activities to distract her.

Late that night, she snuck downstairs in her nightdress to the phone in the kitchen. This was not unusual - but her nerves were. Quickly she dialed Jim's number, praying he would answer.

He did.

"Hey, sweetheart," James's voice sounded tired over the phone. Susanna bit her lip.

"How are you?" she whispered back.

"Fine." Unusually for him, he wasn't quick to gab. But then he continued, "I skipped work today to go downtown to register for the draft."

Of course he had. Hating the tears that burned her eyes, Susanna coughed slightly to clear her throat. Immediately Jim added,

"Are you okay? I wanted to tell you beforehand, but your line was busy all day."

"I'm okay," she forced herself to say. "I guess I figured you would go."

"I won't be gone long," James said, sounding more his usual, jaunty self. "Wherever they send me - we'll get this war won in a jiffy. I don't doubt it."

 _I doubt it_ , Susanna didn't say. At her lack of response, Jim spoke again. His voice was gentle.

"Hey, Susie. I'll miss you. You know that, right?"

"I know. I'll miss you too, Jim."

"Sure ya will," he laughed. "I think that with me gone, all the fellows left in Brooklyn will be lining up to take you out."

"Well, they're going to be disappointed, then," Susanna said. She was trying not to be riled up by Jim's obvious light-heartedness, and it wasn't quite working. "Anyway, if they try anything, I'll just knock 'em out like you showed me the other day."

He laughed again. "That's my girl."

Silence. Gnawing on her fingernail, Susanna didn't know what to say.

"I love you, Susie," Jim said suddenly, startling her. "I wouldn't leave you if it wasn't the right thing to do."

The ache in her chest sharpened briefly, and then settled back into a dull throb. Susanna closed her eyes. "I know, Jim. I love you, too."

"See you at Marcie's tomorrow?"

"Nah. My cousin Archie shipped out this morning for boot camp. I think my jazz nights are over."

"I'll find a way to see you, then. I gotta go, sweetheart. My ma's wanting the phone."

"'Bye, Jim."

"Night, Susie."

James's orders came to report to boot camp on January the 17th. Having him for a few extra weeks was a very selfish relief for Susanna, but she tried to be stoic anyway. Until January the 15th, when he took her out dancing for what would be the last time for a very long time.

"At least the clubs aren't so crowded," he told her, trying to make her smile as he swung her around. Susanna glanced around - she hadn't really been paying attention, but it was only a skeleton band playing that night, and only about a half-dozen other couples are on the floor.

"I'd rather it was crowded if you didn't have to leave in the morning," Susanna said pertly.

"Now, now, Susie," Jim said, his voice taking on an admonishing tone though his eyes sparkled. "I'm beginning to think you don't want me to go."

Susanna firmly pushed down the battering emotions threatening to make her cry. She would  _not_  cry in front of Jim. "Of course I don't," she said thickly. "You're my best friend. I'm going to be awfully lonely."

His eyes softened and warmed as he gazed at her, and James swung her into a final dip as the song ended. And as the patrons burst out into scattered applause for the band, he pulled her back up gently, not moving his arm from around her waist.

"Aw, Susie," Jim said. But he didn't clarify. The next song begun, and wearily Susanna forced a smile as they began again. Her energy was low that night, all things considered, but she wouldn't waste her last hours with Jim.

It was a newer song, and so she was surprised when James began singing along the words as he lazily spun her around, snapping his fingers.

_Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me_ _,  
_ _Anyone else but me, anyone else but me, no, no, no  
_ _Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me  
_ _Till I come marching home._

"Cute," Susanna said, her smile genuine now as he brought her back in. "Did you make this song up?" James laughed, shaking his head, but didn't stop. Dancing or singing.

_Don't go walking down Lovers' Lane with anyone else but me_ _,  
_ _Anyone else but me, anyone else but me, no, no, no  
_ _Just remember that I've been true to nobody else but you  
_ _So just be true to me._

"Always," she told him breathlessly.

_Don't start showing off all your charms in somebody else's arms  
_ _You must be true to me  
_ _I'm so afraid that the plans we made underneath those moonlit skies  
_ _Will fade away and you're bound to stray if the stars get in your eyes  
_ _So, don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me  
_ _You're my L-O-V-E._

She finally began to laugh at his comical expression as the trumpet solo began. James was looking smug (and doting). Then the female singer began,

_Don't give out with those lips of yours to anyone else but me  
_ _Anyone else but me, anyone else but me  
_ _No! No! No!  
_ _Watch the girls on the foreign shores, you'll have to report to me  
_ _When you come marchin' home_

"You hear that, Jim?" Susanna teased. "No lips but mine. No matter how pretty the girls are wherever you go."

Jim grinned. "They can be pretty as anything, and still be nothing next to you."

_Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me  
_ _I know the apple tree is reserved for you and me  
_ _And I'll be true till you come marchin' home…_

The song ended. This time Jim spun her around twice, making her dizzy, before finally dipping her at the end. He loved dips for some reason, and Susanna was giggling breathlessly when he pulled her upright again.

"That's my girl," he said softly. "That's the smile I want to remember."

Her cheeks were flushed, and feeling bold, Susanna stood on her tiptoes to kiss Jim on the mouth. He blinked, his eyes wide, but his lips quickly curled into a smug smile.

"Keep on doing that, and I'll smuggle you to boot camp in my bag," he joked.

"Don't tempt me," she sassed back, poking him in the chest.

With this improvement of her spirits, Susanna didn't cry when Jim kissed her good night on her parents' front steps. Nor did she when he waved a last goodbye as he half-ran down the sidewalk home, topcoat buttoned to his chin against the cold, his woollen cap getting dislodged from the wind as he grinned back at her.

Susanna was very proud that she made it through the front door before the waterworks started, but it was a bittersweet consolation.


	9. Chapter 9

Listlessly Susanna lay on the couch in the sitting room, listening to the previously-meaningless news on the radio of the war. Not that Jim was fighting yet, but at least she would know what was going on.

Well, sort of.

"Got quilting club tonight?"

Surprised out of her daydreaming, Susanna lifted her head. Father was peering over his newspaper, watching her intently.

"It's still going on, yes," she said.

"Now that Jim can't take you anymore, I was thinking that I could leave early for council meetings," Father said. "If you still want to go, that is." His eyes were twinkling.

"Oh - oh,  _yes!_ " Enlivened, Susanna jumped up from the couch. "Let me call Becky and make sure. Oh, thank you, Dad!" And she bounded over to him, pressing a kiss to the top of her bald head before rushing to the phone.

Becky was initially confused, but definitely keen to see Susanna again, and it was with a much brighter outlook that she rang the doorbell to the Barnes' that evening. Becky, Ruth and Mary welcomed her in, and once she was plopped on the carpet in front of a quilt, Susanna could look around - and she discerned that the light in the Barnes' house was gone, too.

"Have you gotten a letter from Jimbo yet?" Mary asked.

"It hasn't been a week, you clucklehead," Becky scolded her. "Mail doesn't travel that fast."

"When I do, I'll be sure to tell you," Susanna promised Mary, who smiled back.

It was good to be in the company of girls close to her age, even with James gone. No more dancing, no more sneaking out for sodas. But there was still laughter, a welcome bandage for the pain of his absence.

The winter dragged on. Susanna continued adding bits and bobs to her hope chest, though with less hope now, and saw Becky as often as she could. Becky was still in high school, though, and so their excursions were limited to weekends. And Becky, when she eagerly inquired of Susanna's hope chest and was reluctantly allowed to see it, was far more outspoken about the entire thing.

"I heard Bucky telling Ma and Pop about it one night," Becky said, admiring the embroidered fringe of a set of pillowcases. "I was supposed to be sleeping."

"Of course you were," Susanna laughed, and with mischievous eyes, Becky lowered her voice. Which was good, since Susanna's mother was in the kitchen nearby, and could probably hear.

"Ma asked when he was going to propose to you. He said in the summer, since you hate snow so much."

Susanna's face burned a bright red. With trembling fingers she carefully folded the linens back together. "I don't think he'll be here in the summer," she said softly.

"Bucky'll find a way, anyhow," Becky said. "That's just the way he is." She sounded so confident, Susanna couldn't help but smile.

Finally, a letter from Jim at the beginning of March arrived with the news she'd been waiting for:  _I'll be back in Brooklyn on the 30th. Can you wait that long? I'm not sure if I can. I missed you more than I thought I would, Susie-Q. A couple hundred smelly blokes don't really take the sting out of missing you._

March the 30th. So close, and the days were dragging  _so_  slowly.

On March the 29th, Susanna took her rattled nerves to St. Francis, as she did every Wednesday, to practice the organ. She didn't really need it, not after all these years of playing the same songs over and over, but it was a welcome break from sitting at home and doing nothing.

Youth groups were scanty now in the evenings. So Susanna turned on a few lights and enjoyed the empty silence of the chapel as she trailed her gloved fingers on the armrests of the pews. Up to the organ bench on the dias. That window was still broken, and so she left on her coat against the brisk wind, tugging off her gloves and warming up with a few scales.

Tomorrow, she would see Jim. Tomorrow. After the last ten weeks of his absence, Susanna wondered how it could have felt so long and short at the same time. Maybe he would know.

Dully she plinked her way through several songs. The deacon came out once to compliment her dedication to practicing, which she barely accepted without laughing out loud. Then all was quiet again, and with a heavy sigh Susanna paused with a glance at the clock. It had only been a half-hour.

This was going to be the longest night of her life.

With her elbow on the music stand, Susanna rested her chin in her hand as she flipped through another music book. Nothing piqued her interest. In fact, she yawned hugely. Maybe it was time for something a little more peppy -

A clink on the keys of the organ made her jolt. She turned head, glancing down to see a golden band, coming to rest on the ivory. She stared.

"Mighty fine playing there, Miss Dickson."

A familiar voice. Every hair on her body seemed to stand on end, and with her lips parting in surprise, Susanna's head jerked up -

_Jim!_

Grinning his smug grin as he leaned on the organ, dressed head to toe in military duds ( _handsome_  military duds, she couldn't help noticing) - he was  _there_. But his letter said -

"You aren't supposed to be here until tomorrow," Susanna blurted. His answering laugh seemed to fill the enormous chapel with warmth and light.

"I might've lied a little," James admitted. "I wanted to surprise my sweetheart."

"I'm plenty surprised. But how did you know - "

"That you'd be here?" He glanced around the chapel, still smiling. "It's Wednesday, silly girl! You always practice the organ on Wednesdays."

Susanna stared. Then she began to laugh, too. Standing and squeezing out from behind the organ bench, she was not shy about throwing her arms around Jim's neck, clinging to him tightly as his arms wrapped around her. He smelled a little different, a little strange - but beneath it he was still  _her_  Jim, and he was home. For a while, at least.

Too soon, James pulled back, smiling broadly. "Aren't you going to admire your present, Susie?"

"What - "

He reached behind her, picking up the golden ring he'd dropped on the organ keys. Oh. She blinked stupidly as he held it up to her eye level so that she could see it better.

"I've had this a while," Jim said, completely nonchalant. "I was going back and forth wondering if I should give it to you now or wait until the war's over...I figure I'll feel a bit better about shipping out if I know my girl's wearing my ring so all the fellows will leave her be. Whaddya say?"

"What - what do I say?" Susanna's voice is shaky, and she swallowed quickly. "How...how long have you had that, Jim?"

"Oh - since around your birthday, I think."

She blinked at him again. Then she frowned, placing her hands on her hips with a steady glare. "You mean to say you were teasing me all that time about having a hope chest, and  _I_  felt like the most presumptuous, overly-hopeful girl in Brooklyn when you had a ring all along - "

James is laughing, probably at her red face, but Susanna couldn't be truly angry. He picked up her left hand, sliding the golden band onto her fourth finger easily.

"I wanted to propose in the spring, when the flowers are out at Prospect Park," he said. "Can you forgive me? For keeping it a secret, and for doing it on the fly."

Susanna bit her lip as she admired the shine from the pearl in the band, and the sparkle from the diamonds that flanked it. "I guess."

He laughed again, and swung her into the air, ignoring her squeal of surprise. Susanna couldn't help giggling, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as he set her gently back down. He glanced around quickly.

"Is the priest here?" he asked.

"No. The deacon's in his office."

"Good."

And Jim lowered his head, and kissed her until her limbs were thrumming with warmth and happiness, and she could scarcely breathe.

"Let's go tell your parents the good news," he murmured. "Put your ma out of her misery."

"But Jim - what about your parents?"

"They want to have you over for supper on Sunday. Whaddya think?"

Susanna bit her lip. "I think Becky is going to be  _very_  smug. She's a lot like you, you know."

James laughed, and she snatched up her handbag and gloves before winding her arm through his, and matching his bouncing steps out the chapel and into the night.


	10. Chapter 10

Jim's furlough was to be ten days. Ten glorious days, and he didn't have anywhere else to be - and so, excepting the time he spent with his family, he was all Susanna's.

She supposed she didn't mind sharing him too much; and at least, the night they went out for milkshakes with Steve, she was happy he could gab about boot camp with another fellow. She found it uninteresting and a little sad, but Steve drank in everything Jim said with wide eyes.

"You didn't try to enlist again, did ya, Steve?" Jim asked, slurping the last of his milkshake.

"Uh - yeah. Still no luck."

Jim gave Steve a glare that Susanna could only describe as stern (she'd never seen Jim look stern before), and Steve shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. She looked away, feeling awkward. It had the ring of an old, stale argument, and one that she wasn't a part of.

"Well, don't be going into a decline," Jim said at last. "Susie, do you think you can keep Stevie out of trouble for me while I'm gone?"

Susanna glanced over at Steve, suppressing the urge to smile. "Not really," she said, nudging Jim in the ribs with an elbow. "I'm too busy for a full time job."

She succeeded in making both boys smile. A little of Steve's spark returned.

"Too busy, huh?" James asked, clearly amused. "Doing what?"

"Oh, this and that."

He was leaning towards her in the booth they were sharing, making her blush scarlet. "I'll give you something to do," he muttered under his breath, and Susanna nearly keeled over entirely.

Jim's intention wasn't so bad as he made it seem; the next morning he arrived at her house bright and early, hat under his arm, and immediately whisked her away with Mother's permission.

"Now look here," he told her as she tried to button her gloves with her teeth. It was bad going; at the intersection to cross the street into the heart of Brooklyn Jim paused, and pulled her hands towards her to button the gloves himself. Susanna nearly melted.

"I've gotten some pay for my time at boot camp," James said. "I want you to spend it on the things you'll need for the wedding."

"The -  _what_  - Jim, but - "

"And I don't wanna hear any complaints about it, either," he said, pretending to be severe as he tucked her gloved hand in his elbow. But Susanna wasn't one for keeping her complaints to herself.

"Jim, my parents will pay for the wedding," she told him archly. "They did the same for my siblings. Don't be ridiculous."

James thought for a moment, casting her a glare as he shoved his hands in his pockets. They were keeping pace on the sidewalk, dodging other pedestrians as shopfront after shopfront breezed by.

"Fine," he said at last. "Then I want you to pick out some things you'll need for our house."

"Our - " Susanna was, frankly, speechless. She took a moment to compose herself (ignoring Jim's growing amusement), and finally declared, "James Barnes, I cannot and will not take your money."

"You can and you will," Jim said, lips twitching. "It'll be our money, anyway. Consider it practice - you'll be promising to obey me, won't ya?"

"Not on your life," Susanna said tartly. "I'll promise to humor you, though."

He burst into laughter. This drew stares from those passing them on the sidewalk, but Susanna kept her head high. Eventually Jim threw his arm around her shoulder, holding her close. "And what'll the priest have to say to that?" he asked fondly.

"He can change the vows, or we can get married somewhere else. Anyway, I've known Father Rocco long enough that I can persuade him."

They paused at another intersection, and James pressed a kiss to her cheek with an enormous grin. "That's my conniving girl."

Susanna gave him her best innocent smile, and he was laughing again as they crossed the street.

Despite her (mostly half-hearted) protests, Jim did finagle her into a department store. It was a push and pull game then - he suggested one thing or another, Susanna gave an excuse to say no, and he would find something else. She did enjoy daydreaming about living with him after the war was over - but she prided herself on being a tad more practical. Who knew when they would be able to marry - and their wedding guests would surely provide most necessities through gifts.

But she had a weak point. Her lively teasing was silenced when she caught sight of a lovely set of china servingware, and Jim saw her face as she was tracing the pink and yellow rose pattern on the soup tureen.

"Is that gonna fit in your hope chest?" he asked, coming up behind her to wrap his arm around her waist. Susanna scrunched her nose as she glanced back at him.

"No."

"Are you just sayin' that because you don't think I should spend my money on it?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get it."

"James…"

"Sweetheart," he interrupted, spinning her around so that they were facing each other. Susanna gulped; they were very close between the aisles of merchandise. "You may not think we need this, but I do. I need to spoil my girl a little before I leave." And Jim's bright blue eyes were beeseaching, urging her to accept in the most unfair way (and he thought  _she_  was the conniving one). She bit her lips, and then sighed.

"Fine. Fine! Buy it if you want."

His cheeky grin was back. "I do want."

"Then we can finally leave."

"It'll just be saving the rest of this discussion for later." And even though there were customers all around, James leaned down to press his lips to hers. Susanna blushed.

That night, after the china was properly admired by her parents, Susanna carefully tucked it away in her hope chest, wrapped in its paper and snuggled in between linens. She was smiling when she closed the lid.

She was not smiling seven days later, when Jim came over one last time before heading to the bus stop to the harbor, where he'd be boarding a ship for Europe. It was late afternoon, and the agonizing wait of the morning for him to stop by had drained Susanna; she welcomed him inside wanly, sniffing through her clogged nose. She must have been a sight, but he evidently didn't care.

"Hey," James said quietly, pulling her into a gentle hug. They were lingering in the entryway; she knew her parents were nearby, and while they probably wouldn't protest a goodbye embrace, she was far more comfortable with Jim alone. She rested her head on his chest, hating the cold brass buttons on her cheeks, but clung to him anyway. They didn't speak for several minutes; she heard Father turning the page of his newspaper twice.

Then suddenly Jim was humming; Susanna caught her breath, recognizing song. Then she gave a hollow laugh, and his hum turned into soft singing.

_Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me  
_ _I know the apple tree is reserved for you and me…_

"And I'll be true to you until you come marching home," Susanna finished bravely, and she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. James was smiling broadly, but it didn't disguise the look in his eyes. Not quite as jovial as usual, not quite as fearless. But his hands on her arms didn't shake.

"I hope you'll write to me," he teased.

"Every day. I'll probably have to use all my savings just to mail a brick of paper."

Jim laughed. "I look forward to it." He pulled out of the embrace, very gently, and Susanna felt another swoop of dread in her stomach. "You gonna walk me to the bus stop?" he asked with a grin.

"Oh - can I?" A bubble of hope. To put off the inevitable.

"If you like. I wouldn't mind showing you off to all the other fellows."

"Let me get my hat - " Susanna tore herself away to bound upstairs, grabbing her things as she listened to the warbling voices of her parents speaking to James below. Tugging on her gloves, she descended again, striding towards the sitting room where Jim was leaning against the doorway. He turned at her approach, flashing her his crooked smile.

"Come straight home after James is on the bus, dear," Mother said, frowning slightly. "I don't like the thought of you all alone on the platform with those soldiers," she paused. "Shall I go with you?"

"Susanna will be fine, Maria," Father said, flicking his newspaper. "Let the two lovebirds go alone."

Saved by Dad. Susanna took Jim's arm, and after he gave her parents a very polite goodbye, they walked down the entryway and out the front door. The air was warmer than she expected; it was well into April, and winter was over.

James picked up the canvas bag he'd left on the porch, swinging it over his shoulder as he squeezed Susanna's hand. "Thanks for walking me," he said, that teasing glint in his eyes.

"You're welcome," she said primly, keeping up with his long strides.

The three blocks to the bus stop were quiet. Susanna was drawn into her own thoughts, her own dreading of his parting. She didn't know why Jim was quiet; he was usually so talkative...

The platform was crowded. After tossing his bag to a man loading the luggage compartment, Jim turned to hug Susanna one last time. She didn't care that this intimate moment was probably being observed; she wasn't the only woman farwelling her soldier, after all. And she wouldn't see him again for a long time. Hot tears were stinging her eyes, but she managed a watery smile when Jim pulled away. The driver of the bus was honking his horn; soldiers dressed the same as Jim were clamoring aboard.

"See you soon," he said lightly, bending to kiss her cheek. "I'll write as often as I can."

"You'd better," Susanna said fiercely, and kissed him back on the mouth.

Jim laughed, squeezing her arms one last time. Then he picked up her hand, placing a kiss on her engagement ring. "'Bye, Susie."

A hundred things she wanted to say lodged in her throat. So she merely whispered, "Bye, Jim."

He was one of the last on the bus. Susanna stood on the platform, alone, wringing her gloved hands together as she tried to catch sight of him sitting amongst the mass of other soldiers. There were many calls around, many waving arms sticking out of the windows. Then the engine roared to life, and merged into the traffic.

Soon it was out of sight. Sniffling, Susanna wiped a traitorous tear from her cheek, and turned on her heel for home.


	11. Chapter 11

The nights that summer were hot. Unbearably hot. Even waving a fabric fan at her face, sitting on the terrace of the Barnes' apartment with her feet propped up on Ruth's chair and an electric fan casting lazy waves of slightly-cooler air over them all, Susanna was sweating. It was a lulling heat; she closed her eyes to listen to the news on the radio.

This was a new habit she'd picked up; she and Jim's family had been clinging to each other since his departure several months earlier, sharing their scrappy news with each other, all rejoicing over the two letters that had made it back from Europe.

_And that is the end of our report tonight. Willard Matheson, signing off._

Susanna sighed, opening her eyes again and pushing up her cheaters to her forehead. The sky was a dusty blue-pink, shimmering in the heat beyond the distant skyscrapers of Manhattan. Becky leaned over to switch off the radio, and Mrs. Barnes sighed as she counted the stitches in the sweater she was knitting. Silence lay thick on the terrace, with so many unspoken worries and hopes and fears.

A distant knock sounded at the door, making them all jump. Mr. Barnes coughed, stubbing out his cigarette, and stood to walk back inside. A few moments later he returned, Steve slumped behind him.

"Why, Stevie!" Becky said loudly, standing to greet him with a smile. "What are you doin' here?"

"Came to say goodbye," Steve said. Susanna turned her head to blink at him. "I found a camp that'll take me," he continued, speaking fast, as if he was afraid of the reaction. "I...didn't want to leave without saying...goodbye." His ears were red. Susanna thought this was curious, until she saw a faint blush in Becky's cheeks.

Mr. Barnes immediately started asking questions, and Mrs. Barnes cut in her gentle concern. Susanna sighed, and when the interrogation was over she stood.

"Good luck, Stevie," she told him with a smile. Impulsively she kissed his cheek. "I hope Jim doesn't whoop you when he gets back."

Becky giggled awkwardly, and a few moments later, Steve left.

Jim's next letter came six months later; Susanna was growing quite adept at not worrying too much about the length of time between letters, but it was a welcome relief, all the same. While most of his information was vague, there was plenty that startled her, and the rest of the Barnes family, when she read it to them the following night.

_What happened to Steve, eh? I thought I was finally going crazy when I saw him - he's taller than me now, you know. Captain America, they call him. Got a goofy costume and everything. What happened to keeping an eye on him, Susie? I didn't mean that you should let a scientist from a secret government organization experiment on him. I guess I have to be glad, though. He got me out of a sticky situation._

Jim did not elaborate the 'sticky situation.'

This letter along with the few others, was tied up in a ribbon and placed in her nearly-full hope chest. Most of the space had been taken up by a surprise gift from Becky - Susanna had been appropriately taken aback, one Monday night, to show up for quilting club and discover a new quilt, much larger than usual, being pieced together on the floor.

"Do you like it, Susie?" Becky has asked, looking strangely anxious. "Your mother sent over the samples; she said you'd taken a fancy to it while you were shopping for material to remake a set of curtains."

Susanna blinked. The blue cotton, printed with navy and white flowers, had looked familiar.

"We thought we may as well get started," little Mary had piped in. "It's a wedding gift from all of us."

The quilt had taken a few months to complete, and now Susanna ran her hands over the small stitches, smiling to herself. She could only hope Jim would like it…

So she wrote about it in her next letter.

To general astonishment, Jim's letter was just the beginning of what they heard of Steve. Susanna hadn't been paying attention the local news (so perhaps she'd been deserving of Jim's scolding), but now that Captain America was becoming the poster boy for the war front in Europe, she could hardly leave her house without seeing illustrated posters of beefed-up Steve in store windows, saluting her with a grin.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Becky said fervently one Saturday night, as they walked home together, arm-in-arm, from the church social. "I feel as though if I ever saw Steve again, I wouldn't recognize him."

"Maybe," Susanna couldn't help teasing. "But now he can probably lift you over his head."

Becky lapsed into silence. Then she blurted, "He probably has a lot of girls after him now, huh."

"Maybe," Susanna said again. "But I wouldn't worry about it." At Becky's sigh of frustration, Susanna nudged her in the shoulder. "So you're blind, Beck. You haven't seen the way Steve looks at you. But believe me, that boy is clobbered."

Becky gave a strangled laugh. "Maybe he used to be. So much will be different...when he comes back."

"He'll be twice the size he used to be," Susanna pointed out. "But think of how much fun it'll be to go dancing with him."

"I'll need a spotter," Becky giggled, finally cajoled back into a good mood.

"Jim and I'll be there," Susanna promised. "He'll catch you."

The girls laughed together in the autumn wind, eerie in the unusually empty Brooklyn neighborhood.

Snow fell thick and heavy that winter; on Christmas Day, Susanna was fussing with a very finicky dish of banana and date salad when the phone rang. The rest of the family was loud in the living room, enjoying presents and company, so she wiped her hands clean on a towel to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

A crackly voice replied. "Susie?"

She nearly dropped the phone. "Jim?"

"Phew! I almost worried I forgot your number."

Still connected to the phone, Susanna skipped over to the stove to turn it off; the syrup could wait. But hearing Jim's voice for the first time in nearly two years could not.

"I'm on leave in London for the next two days," he was saying, his voice low and a touch raspy. "It's not as jivin' as Brooklyn."

Giddy, Susanna giggled. "How are you?" she asked quickly. "Are you...are you safe?"

"Safe and sound," Jim assured her. "A little cold, a little tired, but safe. What are you up to, Susie? Still wearing my ring?"

"Well…" Susanna bit her lip, and she heard a horrible silence on the other end. "I did take it off to make this banana and date salad," she said at last. "I didn't want it getting sticky."

A burst of Jim's familiar laughter warmed her down to her toes. She sunk into a chair at the kitchen table, fiddling with a worn seam of her apron as her heart pounded in her chest.

"Maybe next Christmas I'll be home," Jim said suddenly, his voice bold. "Maybe we'll be married, have our own little place. And you can make me banana salad while I shower you with gifts."

"Don't be silly," Susanna said, laughing despite herself. "You can give me one gift, because any more than that would be ridiculous, and you'll be helping me chop the bananas. You think I'm just gonna cook for you while you laze about?"

"I was  _hoping…_ "

But she knew he wasn't serious. She giggled as he laughed again. Gosh, she hadn't remembered it being so hot in the kitchen. She waved a hand in front of her face, her cheeks aching from smiling.

There were other voices in the distance at the other end; Susanna's smile faded, and Jim spoke again.

"Hey, I gotta go. Sorry, sweetheart. I thought I'd have more time."

"Did you call your mother yet?" Susanna asked.

"I will," he promised with a chuckle. "You make me a better man, you know that, Susie?"

"Yes, I do."

"Have a happy Christmas, sweetheart."

"You too, Jim. Be safe."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

The line went dead. Susanna closed her eyes, holding the receiver to her chest as she let the happiness warm her heart. It was already a happy Christmas. Even though there was a set of silverware from her parents, scarves and handbags from her sisters and a lovely carved mirror from her brother, five minutes of Jim had been the best present of all.

The rest of winter passed slowly, but Susanna couldn't be unhappy. Next Christmas, he'd said. Next Christmas. The war had been dragging on long enough that most people were beginning to say it should be over any day. Any day.

The news reports of Captain America and his team of Howling Commandos helped. A secret swell of pride buoyed Susanna, knowing her Jim was turning the tide of war for the better.

March blew in with thunderstorms keeping everyone inside. Susanna began hemming sets of sheets, bored out of her mind if not for the busy work of preparing to marry.

One afternoon she was just deciding between yellow roses and pink roses for pillow shams when a knock came at the door. Rushing to the window, she peeked through the lace curtains to see - Becky! Standing on the porch, and clutching what looked like a letter in her hand. It was pouring rain; Becky hadn't even brought an umbrella. How very strange. But Susanna put it from her mind.

She rushed down the stairs, eager to read Becky's letter. Why hadn't she called first? She usually did -

Susanna wrenched open the door, opening her mouth to say something, but something in Becky's expression stalled her. Becky was drenched head to foot, her blue coat hanging limply off her shoulders and her black curls soaked. And her lip was trembling. There were drops on her face, and not, Susanna thought, from the rain.

Her stomach sunk to her feet. It was no letter in Becky's shaking hand. It was a telegram.

"Susie…" Becky started to say, her voice choked. "Susie, I - "

But briskly Susanna reached out a hand to pull Becky into the entryway and out of the rain. "Come inside and dry off," she told her. "And then you can tell me."

But if Susanna had known, she might have left Becky on the porch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on my loves!!! Just one more week!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The is the first of two optional endings. This is...the Canon. It's not happy. I'll be posting the Happy AU in a bit, if that's more to your taste :)

 

"I don't want to do this."

"I know."

Bucky hated the expression on Steve's face. Rueful, embarrassed – but unyielding. Used to the sound, he didn't notice when the mechanical whirls of his arm echoed in the silent hallway as his fists clenched. It smelled like cleaning supplies and death. The bright red and gold carpet and the cheerful wreaths on the doors did not disguise it.

They stopped at room 312. Giving Bucky a nod of encouragement, Steve lifted his fist and knocked twice. The door swung open.

His ears were ringing, and he shook his head as if to dislodge a fly. Bucky grimaced, slinking behind Steve into the bright room.

"Good afternoon, sir. My name is Steve Rogers, I called earlier –"

"I know." The reply was a wheeze from a lounge chair in the corner. Bucky stared at the old man, his jaw clenching. Wispy grey hair adorned the shiny head, and an oxygen tank was parked at his elbow.

"Wish I had coffee to offer, but we're not allowed," the man said, his words slow.

"It's no problem, sir."

Against his will, Bucky's eyes were trailing through the room. A hospital bed, made with a faded quilt. Had it been -? Hers? His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and turning to look at something else, he saw a dark cedar chest beneath the television, laden with framed pictures. Bucky flinched at the sight.

He hated this.

"I appreciate you being willing to see us," Steve was saying. "My friend Bucky –"

"So you're Jim."

Bucky dragged his gaze back to the old man, seeing the shrewd look in the man's gaze. Not anger, or jealousy, or resentment. Just…interest, really.

"Yes, sir," he muttered.

"Sue almost never spoke of you," the man said bluntly.

He wasn't surprised. He wouldn't have been able to talk about it, either.

Bucky shifted his weight, and morbid curiosity overcoming him, he took one step towards the pictures. Gold frames, silver frames, black frames. Smiles. Susie. A little girl with Susie's smile, and boy with her curls –

Susie in a white dress and a bridal veil, holding flowers with her smile forever frozen. Susie holding a baby. Susie and a younger version of the old man, standing in front of a small house with a picket fence, laughing. Susie wearing an apron over a checkered dress, letting another little girl with pigtails lick a spoon. Susie, her hair white, surrounded by grandchildren. Susie –

His Susie. Not with him.

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss," Steve was saying. "If I had known –"

"It's alright. Sue didn't like anyone to make a fuss," the old man said. "And it's good to die, after a long life. Better than to suffer through the cancer."

Bucky's fingers twitched. He wanted to pick up the picture of Susie on her wedding day, to drink it in – it should have been him. If he hadn't gotten captured, if he hadn't lost his hold on the train – if, if if –

"She wore your ring," the old man said, his voice breaking through Bucky's thoughts. "Every day until she died." There was a scraping sound, and Bucky jolted, turning 'round as the man opened the drawer of a table beside him. He let out a breath.

Steve was trying to catch his eye, but Bucky couldn't bear not. Not more sympathy, not more pity. His jaw clenched, riveted on the old man pulling out an envelope.

"Here," he said, holding it out. "Might as well have it back."

Bucky took it. He shook it over his flesh hand, and a ring attached to a gold chain fell out with the slightest chink of noise. The ring he had given Susie, all those years ago… A folded picture was stuck inside, and he pulled it out.

Susie at the beach at Coney Island, her cheek pressed to…to his own. They were smiling, his arm around her shoulders. They were strangers to him now, forever caught in a black and white photograph. He barely recognized himself. He had been so idealistic, so ignorant – The ring twisted around his metal finger, and he stared at the tiny pearls with a scowl. They seemed to gleam back at him,  _why didn't you come back? How could you let Susie -_

"I can't," he said roughly, tucking the items back in the envelope.

"Take it," the old man said.

"It's not mine anymore," Bucky said, his voice growing louder. "It's – it's yours, or whatever. It should go to one of your children."

"They won't miss it. She never told them about you."

A hot-red flush spread through his skin quick as a wink, and then he was cold from his head to his toes. Bucky stiffened. Of course she hadn't told her children of her dead beau. It would have only made them feel bad.

"Thank you," he said at last.

"Don't mention it. Thanks for dropping by."

They were dismissed. Bucky felt Steve's hand on his shoulder as they left the room. He felt as though he was in a daze, his fingers tight around the envelope.

"Sorry, man," Steve said softly as they walked again through the eerie hall. "I know that was rough."

More than rough. Rough he could handle. It was…unbearable. But what amount of heartbreak and regrets could bring a dead woman back?

"It's fine," Bucky lied. "Thanks for coming with."

"No problem."


	13. Chapter 13

 

Susanna shielded her eyes from the sun, desperate to see as much as she could on the docks. There were swarms of people further down from where she was waiting, none to patiently, with her arm linked in Becky's. Most of them were soldiers. Ragged. Crying as they reunited with family. Families crying as they saw their sons and cousins and fathers broken and bruised and bloody. A foghorn sounded, but she didn't wince.

Her heart was ready to leap from her chest at any moment. She squeezed Becky's arm tighter.

"Gee, Susie - you're a bit antsy!" Becky teased. "Lookin' for someone in particular?"

"Oh, stop it," Susanna admonished halfheartedly. "You're just as excited, Beck. Don't try and pull the wool over my eyes."

The sky was blue, that late summer afternoon. Not a cloud in sight - literal or figurative - since the war was over, the mood over New York City was so lightened that Susanna hardly recognized Brooklyn. People smiled again. Windows were opened. And -

"There!" Ruth shouted, and points a finger over the crowd.

Susanna's heart really did leap from her chest at that. Gnawing at her lip, she cast her eyes hungrily over where Ruth was pointing, to see -

_Oh, it was really him, he'd come home, he was -_

Walking faster, that's what. A beaming smile grew on her face as Jim's face grew nearer, matching his. The Barnes girls began to squeal (Mrs. Barnes didn't even scold them), and a moment later Susanna could scarcely breathe as James was engulfed in a massive, female-led embrace that completely surrounded him.

"Bucky! Bucky! Bucky!" Mary was chanting. Ruth just squealed, and Susanna saw tears on Becky's cheeks. She didn't comment, with Jim's scratchy-uniformed arm around her shoulder - as she, too had been included in the group hug, Susanna let her gaze settle on Jim's face. He hadn't shaved recently, that was for sure, and there were bags under his eyes. But the blue was bright as ever, and he smiled his Jim-smile down at her as Ruth tugged on his coat.

"Ma," Jim said correctly, and bent over to kiss his mother's cheek. Mrs. Barnes was openly weeping, and then retreated back to her husband. "Becky. Ruth. Mary." Each sister got a kiss, and reluctantly pulled away. Then James was looking down at Susanna again; his eyes hungry and tired and a hundred other things. "Susie." It was barely a whisper, and now that his arms were empty he curled them around her waist, dipping her backwards and planting a very thorough kiss right on her lips.

Susanna's face was beet red when he stood her up again.

"Glad you came home, son."

With his arm still around Susanna, Jim grinned at his father, who held out a hand. But a handshake is no good for James Barnes - Susanna gave a choked laugh as he embraced his father affectionately, laughing.

"Hey, Pop."

"Bucky, we made your favorite shepherd's pie for dinner!" Ruth said loudly, barging through once again to grasp his hand. "And Becky even made us go in and dust your bedroom and everything. Susie said - " And Ruth broke off, pressing her lips together as the group began to walk back up the sidewalk towards the car.

"Susie said what?" Jim asked suspiciously, and Susanna's cheeks burned as he glanced at her with that wry half-smile she had missed so, so much.

"Nothing," Susanna said quickly.

"She said that he wouldn't be there long, anyway," said innocent, little Mary, hopping along with her hand in her mother's. Susanna wished briefly that the sidewalk would swallow her up.

"Is that so?" Jim's voice was light, and she felt him squeeze her shoulder slightly. She didn't dare look at him.

In the car, things got a little smushed - the four girls and Jim were forced to share the backseat. Mrs. Barnes tried to convince Bucky to take the front seat, as he was taller and the guest of honor, but he point-blank refused.

"No, Ma. Believe me, this is much better than what I'm used to." With the doors shut, Susanna's hips dug painfully into the door on one side, and Jim's leg on the other. She tried not to let it bother her. Especially when his hand found her, and he glanced over with a brilliant smile. "Besides, Ma - I want to sit with my Susie."

Oh, it was so wonderful to have him back. More than wonderful. Stupendous. Marvelous. Even if his eyes are a little distant, his mouth a little drawn. At least he's home. The war would be further away every day.

That night Susanna lay in bed for a long time, with streaks of silver sunlight shimmering through her lace curtains. She was still to excited by Jim's return to sleep; it had been a lovely evening at the Barnes' home, and Jim had even walked her home, just like old times. And then of course her parents had invited him in for a chat, which had gone on for a few hours.

But saying goodbye when he'd left around nine was harder than she was used to. Even though they'd see each other again soon…

The fire escape outside her window began to clunk. Probably the next-door neighbors. Susanna gave a sigh, which turned to a strangled gasp as a dark figure paused outside her window, blocking out the moonlight.

 _Tap, tap, tap_ , on the window. Then a hushed, "Susie. It's me."

She jolted out of bed, yanking open the curtains to see -  _James_ , outside her bedroom window, looked wan and ragged with his coat unbuttoned and no hat -

Susanna didn't even think. She unlocked the window and slid it open.

"What on earth are you doing here?" she hissed in a whisper. "It's almost midnight!"

"I had to see you." Jim swallowed thickly. His eyes are wider than usual; the bag under them darker, and even though he'd been gone for the past two years, Susanna knew something was wrong. So she reached out to grab his hand, and he climbed through the window. She shut it again - softer this time, before rushing over to fetch her wrapper from the bedpost. She barely dared look at Jim, but he was standing there so...so unlike himself and so silent that Susanna pushed him to sit on the bed, and planted herself right next to him.

"There," she said softly, tying the wrapper at her waist. "Tell me what's going on."

But his eyes are unfocused; all over her bedroom, as if studying it closely, then on her face, then on her hand which was holding his. Then back to his face. "You're so beautiful, Susie," Jim murmured. "I - I wonder if I almost forgot how pretty you are."

"Nonsense," Susanna said, trying not to blush.

"No, really. And you have bedhead. It's cute." With a quick grin, he reached over to tug on the tousled end of her hair. She swat him away, now blushing for real.

"I'll thank you not to make it worse," she told him severely. "And that's not what I asked. Are...are you alright, Jim?"

His expression stilled, with only a twitch at the corner of his eye. Then he loosed a shuddering breath, dropping his gaze. She could see every one of his dark lashes, spread on his cheeks as he wrinkled his brows. It was several moments before he spoke again.

"Just can't sleep," he muttered. His fingers tighten around hers, and Susanna frowned. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know everything that Jim saw during the war, she didn't know the entirety of what was disturbing him. So she did the only thing that came to mind - she scooted closer to his side, and wound her arms around his neck.

Jim sucked in a breath, tensing slightly. Then he sighed, and buried his face in her neck as his arms clenched around her back.

"I wanna forget. I really, really do, Susie." His breath is hot on her skin, and slowly she began to stroke the curled hairs at the back of his neck into submission.

"I know, Jim. 'Course you do," she murmured back. "Let me help. Can you do that?"

A moan strangled in his throat. Then his shoulders begin to shake, and as broken whimpers fall from his lips, his head sinks down until it's on her chest, his hands gripping in her waist like vices. Susanna felt tears burn her own eyes, listening to Jim - she ran her hands down his back as he cried himself out, clinging to her like a child. The feel of his rough military jacket was rough under her fingertips. She hated it. Seeing Jim like this was...horrifying and heartbreaking and soul-crushing. Susanna wasn't even sure if she'd heard him crack a joke all day…

Several minutes pass, and at last his whimpers slow and soften, and finally stop. Jim shuddered once more, and Susanna blinked several times to clear her eyes as he peeled his face off of the front of her wrapper, lifting his head with an embarrassed sniffle.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, Susie," he said shakily, dragging one sleeve over his eyes. "I didn't mean to - to come here and - "

But Susanna put her index finger on Jim's dry lips. "Hush. It's fine." Beneath her finger, his lips curl upwards. Still his handsome smile, even when his eyes are puffy and red. How did he do that, anyway? Susanna probably looked like a drowned cat right now.

"These aren't for me, are they?" he asks softly, and with a finger flicks away one of the tears at the corner of her eye.

"Well, they're not for my other fiance," Susanna snarked back.

"Other fiance?" Jim asked, his brows nearly disappeared into his hair. "What's this? Why haven't I heard of this fellow?"

"Because he doesn't exist, chucklehead."

"Then you're mine?"

Susanna smiled, her heart skipping a beat at the lazy smile Jim was wearing. Yes, this was her Jim. "Yes. I'm all yours."

"I suppose you're going to tell me what day you picked for our wedding?" he teased.

"Maybe. Maybe you'll just have to lay out your wedding clothes every morning, and one day I'll surprise you." It was too good to resist - Susanna remembered all too well Jim saying nearly the same thing to her long ago. Clearly he remembered too, because he began to hoot with laughter, and quickly she covered his mouth with her hand.

"Shh! My parents!"

James's eyes sparkled as his fingers curled around her wrist, gently pulling her hand away. Without a sound, he pressed a kiss to her palm, and then her wrist. Her pulse fluttered; was that the moonlight darkening his eyes, or - ?

He leaned forward, lips ghosting over her cheek, and then her nose. Susanna tried to breathe - really she did. But with Jim's eyes swallowing her whole, with his breath in her mouth, she was sure she'd faint.

The first kiss was sweet, and short, and he pulled away with that smug grin. Susanna bit her lip, wanting more. Perhaps he read this in her expression, because a moment later his lips crashed back into hers, and she nearly choked on a whimper.

He'd never kissed her like  _this_  before.

It was debilitating in every way, and in the best way. Susanna moaned, as softly as she could, when his tongue began to lick at hers. Heat was crawling across her skin, making her head pound - and she didn't protest when Jim laid her gently back on the pillows. She should protest. She really should. In a minute. Then she'll tell him to go.

His fingers ghosted the end of her nightdress, pushing it up slightly as he drew out long, sultry kisses between their lips. Without thinking Susanna combed her fingers into his hair, tugging slightly as he groaned. Then his fingers were tracing circles on the bare skin of her thigh, causing goosebumps to race and up down her legs, which she clenched together instinctively.

Jim pulled away to chuckle, his voice low and husky and doing crazy things to her stomach. "No other fellows, right baby?" he asked, nuzzling the tip of his nose behind her ear as Susanna bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut.

"N - no, James. No one but you -  _oh, touch me again_  - "

He obliged at once, his lips trailing hot kisses down the column of her throat as his fingers slipped beneath her underwear. Another moan was forming in her throat, but Jim quickly covered her mouth with another searing kiss. The rough scratch of his whiskers - he still hadn't shaved, Susanna remembered dimly - did not detract from...everything else. She was growing hotter, if it was even possible, and prickles of sweat were breaking out on her skin. And her heart was racing - gosh, it was  _racing_  - and when involuntary tremors made her shake head to toe only a moment later, her fingers clenched around Jim's arm as her back arched from the pleasure of his touch.

As she tried to catch her breath, he began to pepper kisses across her face. Susanna scarcely noticed. She felt so...transcendent she could barely even  _think_.

"That's my girl," Jim murmured into her ear. "I - gosh I missed you, Susie. I wanna take you home tonight and keep you forever."

"Marry me first," Susanna managed to say, and he chuckled as he lifted his head. She finally dared to open her eyes - a tad self-conscious of what had just happened, but his beaming smile immediately melted that away.

"Already planning on it," Jim said lazily. "What do you say we go see the preacher in the mornin'?"

"In the -  _tomorrow_?"

"Why not? Although I suppose it's technically  _today_ \- I think it's past midnight now." James shrugged as she absently ran her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. Susanna bit her lip.

"Mother did ask me after you left when we were planning to have the wedding," she admitted. "I think she's impatient." She paused, and then added, "Almost as much as I am."

"You're impatient, Susie? Impatient for me?" Jim kissed the tip of her wrinkled nose, and chortled. "'Course you are. I'm impatient for you too, baby." Susanna tightened her arms around his neck with a sigh, and he sunk back down into her embrace.

It was strange, lying her her childhood bed with the man she was going to marry draped across her and her nightgown all skewed. Oh well. Susanna ran her fingers through his hair, and after a moment he began to moan.

"If you keep that up, I won't be leaving before morning, sweetheart. I gotta go. Or I'm gonna fall asleep."

Jim lifted his head, giving her a soft, sappy sort of smile. With his hair mussed and curled over his forehead, he was utterly cute, and Susanna couldn't stop herself - she giggled. Then he chuckled, and kissed her again before rising from the bed.

"I'll let myself out," he said cheekily. He pushed open the window, and glanced back. "Susie...thanks for - for everything, I guess. Sorry for being a sap."

"Don't be sorry." Susanna shrugged out of her wrinkled wrapper, tossing it aside as she adjusted her nightgown. When she looked up again, Jim's eyes were bugging out of his head, and he quickly turned away.

"Night, baby."

"Be safe, Jim."

And the window slid softly shut behind him.

* * *

Susanna stirred, turning her face away from the brightening sun through the windows. She was warm all over, and deliciously sleepy. Drifting back into dreaming only for a moment, she roused herself again and reached out.

The other side of the bed was cold. She lifted her head, squinting blearily at the empty pillow in confusion.

A rough voice speaks. "Did I wake ya up?"

Jim was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her as the rays of morning light split around his form. She frowned; the muscles in his bare shoulders were twitching, slumped as if in defeat. Defeat which had been audible in his low voice.

"No," she murmured, sitting up with a yawn to scoot closer to him. "But you should have." She rested her cheek against his shoulder, listening to the huff of laughter from his chest.

"C'mere, baby." He grasped her by the waist, pulling her into his lap as her arms wound around his neck. His nose buried into her ruffled hair, breathing deeply. His eyes closed.

"Jim," Susanna said softly. "Maybe you should see a doctor, if it's this bad."

"I'm fine." His voice was rough, but his lips trailing across her forehead were as gentle as ever, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I just don't want to bother you, sweetheart."

"I'm more bothered by you not being able to sleep," Susanna told him bluntly. "Jim –"

"Shh." His hot breath was on her ear, and she shivered.

"I'm not letting this go –"

"Just for a few minutes, sweetheart." Jim's lips were on her neck, hot and damp and drawing a whimper from her throat. He was pushing away on of the straps of her peach-colored nightgown, and his head dipped lower.

"James –" Susanna swallowed thickly, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Susie." His voice was husky, his fingers digging into the flesh of her waist none-too-gently before he swung her 'round. Her back pressed into the soft pillows, arching as his lips found her mouth, her moan sticking in her throat.

Just a few minutes.

They had been married for a week, now. There were still unopened wedding presents scattered around the tiny Manhattan apartment, but neither of them cared. It was finally the end of James's work leave, and he was expected back that morning. So when Susanna was satisfied that his eyes were less haunted and twinkling familiarly again, she left the warm bed and shimmied back into her negligee and a less-revealing silk robe, ignoring James's grumbles of protest.

"You don't have to make me breakfast, baby," Jim said, his voice husky as he leaned over, trying to catch her wrist in his hand as she glided dangerously close to where he was sitting upright in the bed. "Come back," he added plaintively.

"I'm doing no such thing," Susanna retorted, cinching the tie 'round her waist. "I'm making  _myself_  breakfast."

His lips twitched, and for a minute he looked his old self. "You're sharp this morning, aren't you?"

"You woke me up early, remember?" She nearly regretted reminding him, but he slumped back into the pillows with a groan, covering his eyes. His dark hair was sticking on end. Completely adorable, and very nearly irresistible. But he had to be at work in an hour. Jim peeked at her through his fingers.

"I love my wife real nice before I go to work so she doesn't miss me so much, and all I get in return is…this sass?"

"If you didn't like it, then you wouldn't have married me," Susanna said, and daringly dipped down to kiss his dimpled chin before rushing from the room before he could attempt to catch her again.

Her threats were empty, of course - and Jim knew it. When he arrived at the tiny dining table, clean and shaven and dashing in his suit, Susanna had breakfast prepared for them both. She sniffed as he grinned at her, throwing his coat over a chair before sitting down.

"I'm beginning to think I shouldn't believe a word you say," he teased as she sat across from him, tugging the neckline of her silk robe closed.

"Well, I learned from the best," Susanna retorted. James merely winked, and she tried not to blush.

Despite being in the heart of Manhattan, their cozy apartment was very quiet. So it was a peaceful breakfast, all in all - knees knocking together, exchanged looks, fond smiles. Susanna decided that she liked being married. She felt very grown up.

Jim shook out his wrist, glancing at his watch as he drank the last dregs of his coffee. "I have to go," he said. Susanna felt her bubble of happiness begin to shrink as he stood, bending over to kiss her mouth. "See you at six."

"I'll miss you," she couldn't help saying, standing to follow him to the front door. He pulled on his coat, straightening the collar.

"I'll miss you too, baby. Oh, and Ma told me she'd send Becky and Ruth over today - to help you get organized, or something like that. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all!" Susanna hadn't been keen on the idea of facing a full day alone at their apartment. So she smiled as Jim placed his hat on his head, gave her a final grin, and disappeared out the door.

Well! That was that.

And there was plenty to keep her busy.

Dressing in a pair of comfortable trousers and tying her hair back in a scarf (she'd been slacking on curling her hair the last few days), Susanna bounced around the little apartment, tidying clothes, making the bed, and washing the breakfast dishes. There were several boxes on the counter, and so she had to leave the dishes in the sink to dry - she didn't quite like that - and so Susanna began to set about unpacking.

It was a busy, hot morning; she had to open the window to the kitchen to welcome slightly-cooler, though polluted air from outside. Sweat had trickled down her back, and when the clock finally read noon, she took a rest to eat a cold sandwich, staring at the empty room around her and trying not to panic. There was still so much to do!

Salvation came an hour later; a knock on the door revealed Becky, looking chipper and gay, barging into the apartment as Susanna allowed her in, cooing and gushing over the small space.

"Bucky knows how to pick a place, doesn't he?" Becky said with a laugh, admiring the view of Manhattan from the miniscule terrace.

"It's one of the benefits from his job," Susanna tried to explain. "The company owns it."

"What, the government?"

"Yes. The...I forgot what it was called."

"The spy thing."

Susanna gave Becky a horrified glance. "Not so loud, Beck!"

"Sorry, sorry." But Becky's impish smile is anything but. "Now, what can I help with?"

"Erm - there are a bunch of wedding presents still to open," Susanna admitted, wiping her brow as she turned to gaze back into the living room, where the gifts were all piled haphazardly. "I need to write them down so I can address thank you notes."

"Oh, boy! I'll help unwrap, but I ain't writing notes."

Susanna giggled, and they stepped off the terrace.

Becky was good help. Much better than if Susanna had done it by herself - within two hours every gift was written down and packed away - in the linen closet, in the kitchen, in the bedroom. And the boxes and wrapping were piled by the front door to be taken out later.

The apartment was looking much better. It was partially furnished; a little couch, a sideboard (since there was no space in the kitchen). And on the sideboard, something that caught Susanna's eye as she was considering rolling the rug out onto the balcony to beat out the dust and dirt from moving.

"What's this?" she asked, though surely Becky couldn't no either - Becky walked over from where she'd been gathering garbage from the kitchen.

"Oh - that's from Bucky. He picked it up a few weeks ago."

"But what  _is_  it?"

"A record player, silly!"

"What!" Susanna felt over the box for a slit, lifting the lid to reveal a very snazzy looking record player. "Huh!" she said. "I could've been listening to music all day. Might've made it less boring." There was a white envelope slipped into the side, and while Becky whistled as she began to sweep the kitchen, Susanna tore it open curiously.

_Susie, I know you're probably swimming in wedding presents and one more won't mean anything to you, but this is my gift to you. I know how much you love music. Maybe now we can stay in and dance when the weather's bad. From your James._

Susanna bit her lip as a giddy smile began to grow on her face. With a sigh she clutched the letter to her breast. Golly, she loved Jim.

Jim!

She shook out her wrist in a panic - it was nearly four. And she had no groceries for supper. They'd been living off muesli and cheese sandwiches; there hadn't been much time to shop for things like food.

Another knock sounded at the door. Now doubly curious, Susanna walked over to open it - this time it was Ruth, carrying something heavy in her arms, wrapped in a tea towel.

"Came as soon as school got out," Ruth said, panting slightly. "There are a lot of stairs to get here, Susie!"

"I'm so sorry," Susanna said quickly, taking the burden from Ruth. "Come inside! Becky and I just finished with the gifts."

"Ma sent that for you," Ruth explained, nodding towards the dish. "She figured you were busy with everything else. She wants you and Jimbo over for supper on Sunday, too."

Susanna peeked beneath the tea towel - a casserole. Perfect. She grinned as she carried it into the kitchen, Ruth trailing behind. Becky looked up from her sweeping.

"You're late," Becky told Ruth, giving her a steely gaze.

"Am not."

"Did little Charlie Murphy walk you home from school again, eh, sis?"

Ruth's cheeks burst into twin shades of red. A moment of indecision - likely considering whether she ought to confide - and then she sniffed. "I'm here to help," Ruth said, tossing her black curls over her shoulder. "What should I do?"

"You missed the hard work," Becky teased. "Is that why you're late?"

"Come on, Ruthie," Susanna said, looping her arm through the younger girl's. She was beginning to wonder if the Barnes family trait of ruthless teasing would be the death of her.

Ruth was excellent help organizing books to fit into the little shelf in the bedroom, while Susanna finally unpacked her dresses to hang them in the closet. She ought to have done so earlier - she sighed, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles. It was no use. She would have to iron the rest of the week.

The clock chimed six.

"Shoot!" Ruth fumbled the boxes she was trying to crush. "Ma's expecting us home."

"Then go!" Susanna said, taking the boxes from Ruth to shoo her away. "Go!"

Becky and Ruth tug on their coats at the front door, just as the sound of footsteps came from outside. Susanna's heart sped up - and when Becky wrenched open the door with a grin Jim is standing there, holding his keys and blinking before an answering grin spread across his face.

"Hey, Buck!" Becky said gaily. "We were just leaving. Ma and Pop say hello."

"Well, hello back to them," he said easily.

"Good night!" She bounced past him as he steps to the side to allow her to pass. Susanna smiled at his arched expression cast towards her as Ruth ran after Becky, giggling. Jim's lips twitched as he walked inside, closing the door slowly behind him.

"Hi," he said, his eyes still on hers.

"Hi," Susanna said breathlessly. She was probably blushing, but she didn't care. Without another word Jim's arm snaked around her waist, tugging her close as he peppered kisses along her cheek and lips. Susanna squirmed, giggling at how his lips tickled, but he only held her tighter.

"Did ya miss me, Susie?" he cooed.

"I was a little lonely," she admitted, reaching up to flick off his hat. He lifted his head to grin at her, his dark hair slightly mussed, as she dropped the hat on the coat rack. "But Becky and Ruth came to visit this afternoon, so it wasn't so bad."

"You aren't going to start spending more time with my sister than me, are ya?" Jim asked, giving her a mock frown.

"Depends how many late nights you work," Susanna teased.

"Are you trying to keep me in line?"

"Are you considering stepping off of it?"

A tense moment, and James began to chuckle and Susanna laughed aloud. Then he kissed her again - lingering this time, before pulling away to tug off his coat.

There was nothing more peaceful in Susanna's memory than sitting with Jim in their own home. No one else to distract them - just chatting about their days, not at all guilty about holding hands under the dinner table, or when Jim kissed her as he stood to take the plates to the sink.

And they went to bed early and  _no one_  blinked an eye.

* * *

"Count again, Calvin; start from the top."

The little blond boy sighed, squirming on the piano bench but gallantly plunking on the keys once more. Susanna counted along with him, pointing to the notes on the page as he followed along.

"One - two - three - four; one - two - three - hold that two counts - and four - much better."

Calvin let his hands drop, grinning up at Susanna so charmingly that she almost laughed. "Make sure you count aloud when you practice at home, okay?"

"Okay, Mrs. Barnes."

"Now, can I hear your ragtime serenade?"

He shuffled his music away, pulling out new pages as Susanna settled back on her stool. There were distant honks coming in through the open window, but the late May breeze was so pleasant that she couldn't resist leaving the windows open. She gazed out for only a moment - it wouldn't do to be distracted - towards the sun glinting off the windows of the buildings across the street. She smiled to herself; it was nearing the end of the day. Calvin was her final lesson.

The wind shifted, and the stink of gasoline filtered in. Susanna scrunched her nose as Calvin began to plunk out his next song. She turned her gaze back to her student, but the scent stayed and twisted her stomach into nausea. Taking a deep breath, she urged Calvin on as his fingers stumbled. Finally he made it to the end, and her head began to pound. When had gasoline ever stunk so bad?

"You forgot your dynamics," she told him, standing to close the windows. A little better now, and she blinked away dizziness.

"Can I play it one more time?"

"Of course."

Susanna sat on the stool again. Calvin played it much better the second time, and when he was done he twisted on the bench towards the mantle, where the clock was ticking away.

"I guess it's time to go," he said.

"Yes, it is," Susanna smiled. "I wrote down the techniques you need to work on for next week, okay?"

"Okay, Mrs. Barnes." He stood, and reached a grubby hand into his pocket to fish out a neatly-tied handkerchief. He held it out to her. Susanna untied it and let the coins fall into her hands, and she returned the handkerchief to Calvin.

"Tell you mother I said hello," Susanna told him. "And be sure to practice every day!"

"Yes, ma'am. Good bye, ma'am!"

Calvin let out a wave as he bounced out of the apartment, books under his arm, as he made for the door. Susanna was slower behind him, and once he was in the hall she locked the door. Last student. Time to make supper.

She gnawed on the inside of her lip as she wandered into the tiny kitchen; there was turkey and pork in the fridge that needed to be eaten, but the sight of it had turned her stomach the last few days. Jim hadn't minded the tomato and cottage cheese salad they'd had the night before, but she probably should cook something else…

But first, she should lie down for a couple minutes. The lingering nausea from the scent of gasoline (and the sight of wrapped turkey) was making her head spin, and so after taking a sip of water, Susanna trudged to the bedroom with a yawn. Unbuckling her shoes and letting them fall onto the carpet, she curled up, pulling Jim's pillow close so that his smell could crowd out everything else.

It was dark when she jolted awake. Heart hammering, Susanna lifted her head as she heard keys jingling - Jim was home. And she was lying in bed. But it was too late to pretend she was doing anything else; he strode into the bedroom at that moment, turning on a lamp. She winced. The light hurt her head.

"Susie?" His voice was warm, full of surprise. Susanna felt the bed dip where he sat beside her, pushing curls away from her face as he smiled down at her. He was still wearing his coat.

"I'm sorry," she said groggily. "I only meant to lie down until this sickness went away - I must have fallen asleep."

"Did your students wear you out?" Jim teased.

"No...they were good today. I made $1.25."

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"I know. I just like to be busy." Susanna covered her mouth as she yawned, and she didn't see Jim's brows cease as he studied her face.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Not...really. I could smell some gasoline coming in through the window today; I nearly threw up when Calvin was here. It was awful." Susanna shook out her wrist, squinting at her watch. "Oh dear - is it seven already?"

"I'm sorry I was late," Jim said hastily. "I got tied up at work. But hey - you stay in bed. I'll make myself a sandwich."

"No, I can make it…" She tried to sit up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed as James lifted his brows. Dizziness wracked her vision, and she gave a moan as she pressed a hand to her throbbing temple.

"You stay in bed," Jim repeated. "Susie, you've lost all your color. Are you - "

But his voice was growing faint and far away; Susanna felt blackness overcome her vision, teetering before strong arms caught her, and Jim's voice cut through her haze.

"Susie!"

"Umm…." was all she could say. Then he was lying her back on the pillows, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Did you eat lunch today?" Jim asked.

"No...I saw the turkey and just couldn't do it."

"Golly! No wonder you're sick, baby. I'm going to make you toast."

"No…"

His weight left the bed, and Susanna peeked open an eye to watch him shrug off his coat to hang up, and then his jacket, hanging them in the little closet. But then the world tilted again, and she closed her eyes again. She wanted to argue against the toast, but couldn't find the energy...

When Jim brought in a tray later, she could barely sit up. Her stomach was curling and twisting in on itself, and nothing in the world could be more difficult than choking down that toast and drinking the milk. James sat at her feet, watching her carefully, until Susanna was sure she'd never been more embarrassed in her life.

"I'm fine, alright?" she told him when she was done. Her vision was a bit clearer, though her stomach still turned. She didn't think she was going to faint again, at least.

"Alright. I'll just feel better when you're back on your feet, baby." Jim gave her a saucy grin as he ducked out of the room with the dishes, which Susanna scarcely returned before she leapt to her stockinged feet to rush to the bathroom.

Then she really did vomit.

The murmur of distant voices roused her much later; Jim had tucked her back into bed, still fully-clothed, as soon as she was finished at the toilet, but she'd fallen asleep straight away. Now he was back in the bedroom, and Susanna lifted her head blearily as she saw a strange man enter behind him.

"Good evening, Mrs. Barnes," the man said in a booming voice. He was very large, and his hat was tucked under his arm. He carried a briefcase. "I'm Dr. Reuter. I've come to make sure you're well."

 _Clearly I'm not well_ , Susanna thought to herself, but she managed a smile as he set his bag down. Jim was hovering, arms folded in front of his chest during the examination. Susanna caught his eye, and tried to smile.

"Well, at least it's not the flu going around," Dr. Reuter said loudly once he was done, tucking his stethoscope back in his bag. "Make sure you drink plenty of water; I'll send a midwife over in the morning. She'll confirm your condition."

Susanna blinked.

"Good night, Mrs. Barnes." He tipped his hat to her, and Jim scrambled to the door to show him out. Then he hurried back, his grin as wide as the Brooklyn Bridge. Susanna couldn't help returning it; as unwell as she felt, James's bubbling laughter was irresistible.

"So that explains it," he laughed, sitting down beside her. He cupped her face in his hands, planting a hearty kiss on her lips.

"I guess it does," Susanna said faintly.

"Baby, I'm over the moon." His thumbs stroked her cheeks; Jim's eyes were sparkling, his teeth flashing bright as he smiled. "Your piano students might have to find another teacher, though."

"Oh, dear," Susanna sighed. "And Calvin was improving so nicely…"

He laughed again, and kissed her nose before pulling away. "Let me help you get into your nightgown, sweetheart. You don't want to sleep in your girdle."

"Guess not."

James was gentle as he helped her to her feet, sliding off her now-wrinkled day dress and into a negligee. Susanna snuggled back into bed, yawning, as he stripped down to his underthings. Then he disappeared, and brought back a full cup of water. Obediently she sat back up, and sipped at it until it was gone. It was refreshing, and not too nauseating.

"Good girl," Jim murmured. He crawled into bed beside her after turning off the lamp, and Susanna curled herself into his side as he wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. "I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight," he whispered after a minute.

"Then talk to the ceiling," she murmured back. "I intend to sleep for a long, long, time."

Maureen was born in the windy January of 1947, Louisa in the waning summer of 1949, and Steven James on Christmas Day, 1950. Then Susanna begged Dr. Reuter for contraception, though she didn't tell her parents. Jim didn't seem to mind, though.

"And I don't really care what Carol says to me about it," Susanna said peevishly as she climbed out of the car, the sleeping baby bundled in her arms. James was grinning as he closed the door behind her before striding around to the other side. Trying to adjust her gloves with one hand, she continued, "Not all of us have to have six children. Three is plenty. I can mother three better than six, anyway. Come hold my hand, Maureen." Maureen jumped to her side, skirt flailing as she grasped Susanna's empty hand tightly.

With little Louisa balanced in the crook of his arm, Jim straightened. He opened his mouth to say something to her over the top of the car, but the front door of the house opened, and Mother came striding out. Maureen let go of Susanna and rushed to her grandmother. Susanna sighed as Jim came 'round to kiss her noisily on the cheek. There was a wealth of meaning in his eyes, but she wasn't understanding it.

"Where is my little Stevie?" Mother was crooning, and she came towards Susanna with open arms. She surrendered the sleeping baby, her arms feeling empty. Then Father was there, waving hello, and Louisa squirmed out of Jim's arms. She favored her grandfather, and ran to him squealing. He tossed her into the air, which filled with her exuberant shrieks.

Left alone by their own children, James wrapped his arm around Susanna's waist, following behind the group into the house at a much slower pace.

"Nice of your parents to spring for a vacation," he said, nodding towards the house. It was on the outskirts of Nantucket, the ocean just visible over the ridge.

"Selfish of them," Susanna laughed. "They just want their grandchildren."

"No complaints from me, baby. Whaddya say we hit up the beach while the kiddos are being smothered by Granny and Granddad? Doesn't look like your sisters are here yet."

Susanna tilted her head to smile up at him. "I do love a good beach."

Her parents were more than supportive of this idea (Father was already out back, tossing a baseball back and forth with Louisa - Louisa's dress already had grass stains, too. Susanna pointedly ignored that), and so Jim and Susanna went upstairs to find their room and freshen up.

The windows of the tiny bedroom overlooked the sea beyond the rills; Susanna paused to watch the waves as she unpinned her hat, shaking out her curls with a smile.

"It's a bit warm," she remarked.

"All the better for a swim." Jim's voice was low, and Susanna nearly jumped when she felt his arms wrap around her from behind. He pressed a kiss to her neck, and she shivered.

"James…"

"Your parents are watching the kids, baby. We may not have another chance."

"It might look suspicious if it takes too long to put on our bathing suits," she teased, turning 'round to face him. His hair was mussed from his hat, and she ran her fingers through his dark curls until they stood on end. Jim was grinning.

"I like a challenge," he said, a dipped his face to kiss her. Susanna felt the familiar heat rush through her as his lips parted hers, his tongue darting out to have a taste. She giggled, and Jim reached down on her backside to pick her up. She clung to his neck as he carried her to the bed, smelling his wonderful smell.

"Now look here, Susie," James said, pushing down his suspenders as he watched her fumble with her blouse. "You have to be extra quiet, alright? It's one thing to wake a sleeping baby, but another to let everyone in the house know how good I'm lovin' you."

Her cheeks felt hot - from his teasing and the arousal sparking her body to life, and Susanna gave him a glare as she pushed down her skirt. Jim caught hold of her feet, carelessly flicking off her sandals and reaching upwards to roll down her hose. His eyes had darkened, and she glanced quickly over her shoulder towards the door - it was closed.

"I locked it," he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. She whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut as the cool air brushed along her bare legs, and Jim's nimble fingers began to make work of her undergarments. Those too were tossed aside disdainfully, and his lips found her throat, trailing downwards as his hot breath brought her skin to life.

Susanna reached out blindly, tugging on his belt until it came undone, and Jim chuckled as she tried to shove down his trousers. She didn't care; as his weight pinned her to the bed, skin finally on skin, she brought his mouth to hers again and kissed him, languidly, deeply, as his hips nudged between her legs.

"Shh, baby," James thrust into her, his forehead resting on hers. She bit back a whimper, letting her head fall back onto the plush bedclothes. Her hips rolled up, as as his fingers gripped into the flesh of her hip Susanna wondered how she could ever keep quiet.

"Jim…" It came out a moan.

"Yeah, baby?" His breathing was ragged.

"Someone's coming - "

Jim paused, his head tilting towards the door. Susanna tried to catch her breath, and a brisk knock sounded, nearly making her jump.

"Susanna dear, can I pack you and Jim sandwiches for the beach?" Mother called, her voice muffled through the door.

Susanna strained to sound normal. "Er - yes. Thank you, Mother, that would be lovely."

"I'll have it ready."

"Thank you, Maria," Jim called. Susanna winced at the volume, and when Mother's footsteps faded from hearing, she began to giggle.

"I feel young again," she said softly. "Remember that night, after you came home from war - when you snuck into my bedroom? And then you kissed me all into a tizzy?"

James chuckled, brushing strands of damp hair away from her forehead. "I remember."

"I was so sure we'd get caught and that my father would toss you out by the seat of your pants."

"That's the threat you gave me the first time we met, if I recall," Jim said, his eyes sparkling as he gazed down at her. Susanna shifted beneath him, smiling as she ran her foot up the back of his leg.

"Let bygones be bygones," she murmured.

"I'm just glad you didn't lock your window, sweetheart."

"Well, if I'd known how wicked you are…"

A growl formed in Jim's chest, and Susanna nearly gasped as he hooked her knee upwards, thrusting again as his eyes glinted with...well, his usual smugness. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she arched her back, a moan escaping her lips. This time James didn't shush her, his movements growing sloppy as her climax shot through her veins like rapid fire, igniting her nerves and twisting her belly in the most pleasurable way possible.

Jim let out a hoarse groan, and his teeth nipped at her neck. Susanna made a few encouraging murmurs, and soon he was stuttering to a stop. They caught their breath together for a moment, and she trailed her fingers up on his bare, muscled back as he twitched under her touch.

"Susie," his breath was hot on her shoulder as he kissed it gently. "You're too good to me."

"So you love me, then?"

"More than life itself, sweetheart." James lifted his head to give her his lazy smile. His hair was even more messy now, and utterly endearing. Susanna kissed his pouty lips, making him chuckle.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Last one to the beach is on night duty for the baby."

He half-roared in surprise, and Susanna squealed as they rushed around to fetch their swimming things.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea for a while to extend this ending into a longer story. The original idea was to go through the first few years of Susie and Bucky's marriage after he returns (unharmed) from the war. Basically he joins with Peggy and Howard to work at the SSR, probably going on missions, searching for Steve, etc. There were a lot of fun options; the two of them travelling together for his work, Bucky possibly taking up the Cap persona, Arnim Zola being a jerk, possible super-serum side effects and so on. An interesting AU to explore, but one I'm not clever enough to write. I only had detail ideas, not any plot ideas lol. 
> 
> I was also planning on writing a bit of an epilogue that takes place in 2011 - you can imagine Susie and Buck sitting in a nursing home when SUDDENLY on the news Steve appears! Bucky would be so mad at him lmao. And of course Steve would visit and Bucky would chew his head off, etc, etc.
> 
> WHY DIDN'T YOU JUMP OUT OF THE PLANE AFTER IT WAS ON ITS LANDING COURSE, YOU IDIOT?
> 
> BECAUSE YOU WEREN'T THERE WITH THE STUPID IDEAS, JERK.
> 
> And so on.


End file.
